One by One
by Flaignhan
Summary: He wonders if she knew the full extent of what she was doing.  Seprequel to Before the Dawn
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Here it is, the seprequel to _Before the Dawn_. If you haven't read that it's vital that you do before you even set eyes on the first word of this. For those unfamiliar with the term seprequel, it means it's set both after and before the original story. First couple of chapters are really quite short but you know. That's how it goes sometimes. Ah, I have first chapter nerves! Anyway, have a read and let me know what you think. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>Every time he sees those brightly shining brown eyes, he dies a little more.<p>

Every time she walks past him and the scent of her perfume hangs in the air long after she's gone, he has to grip the wall to steady himself, and push all thoughts of her from his mind.

Every time he uses the shower, and finds one of her long wavy hairs clinging to the tiles for dear life, he can't bear to wash it away with a quick burst of water from the shower head. He can't send any bit of her spiralling down the drain. That would feel like an insult to her memory.

She closes her hand around his arm from time to time, on days when he's feeling particularly empty. Her thumb moves back and forth over the material of his shirt, slowly, soothingly. Just like she used to do when things were at their worst during the war. Just like she _will_ do. She always has been, and always will be, incredibly good at comforting him, even though these days it's torture. Completely unintentional on her part, of course.

Sometimes, on very rare occasions, when he's had perhaps one glass too many of Firewhiskey, when he's laying on the sofa at Grimmauld Place, his empty tumbler resting on chest, in constant danger of rolling to the floor with each breath he takes, she comes and joins him, sitting in the chair by the fireplace. A rustle of newspaper will alert him to an imminent crossword clue and sure enough, it comes in her soft voice.

"Another name for Asphodel. Five letters and five letters."

Both of them know full well that she is very much aware of the answer, but he appreciates the attempt at taking his mind off of 'things' all the same.

"Royal Staff," he croaks. He closes his eyes and listens to her ink in the letters with her quill. He can almost pretend they're back at her house, that he's still a convict and she's still alive, that the fire's burning and that Buckbeak is curled up in the shed, surrounded by little jars of fire to keep him warm.

And then she asks another clue aloud, and the hoarse, bitter edge that she never quite managed to eliminate completely is absent from her tone. He comes crashing back to earth, back to the teenager who has no idea that just by sitting in the same room as him she is forcing him to think about all the things he tries so hard to push from his mind.

"Author of _The Dream Oracle. _Five and five again."

"Inigo Imago."

"Did you take Divination when you were at school?" she asks, setting the newspaper to one side after she's filled in the little crossword squares.

"In third year," he says, still staring at the ceiling. "But I dropped it at the end and switched to Arithmancy."

"But how did you get through your OWL? You'd have had a whole _year's _worth of work to catch up on!" she says, aghast at the prospect.

"I did it over the summer," he replies, counting the cracks in the coving. He can't meet her eye. She's going to _die_ for him and she's just a kid.

He wonders how long she has left, but is then marginally distracted by her babbling about how it's one of the hardest subjects and how he must have worked really hard to have caught up and that she had no idea he'd studied it.

He wishes he was seventeen again, because this would have made him smile.

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><p>Molly has a habit of speaking to him in a gentle tone, her brow ever fixed in a frown of concern. Arthur pats him on the back in the way that men do, to show they care, while Fred and George avoid his gaze whenever they cross his path, which they make sure isn't too often.<p>

Remus doesn't even try to make him snap out of it. He alone appreciates what Sirius is going through, and he alone can make Sirius feel better, simply by laying on the opposite sofa in the drawing room, staring at the ceiling that Sirius and he now both know like the backs of their hands.

"It will get easier, I promise you."

"_She_ made things easy."

"I know."

"She wasn't supposed to die, you know."

Sirius hears Remus shift on the sofa so he can look at him, but continues to stare at the ceiling. He will not meet his eye.

"I was supposed to die."

"Sirius..."

But Remus has nothing to say. And so Sirius blunders on, feeling the guilty knot in his chest loosen with each secret he reveals.

"She said to me, the night before, 'I'm sorry I'm such a coward'. She cried. I don't think I've ever seen her cry so much. She'd been thinking about it all those years, ever since we first met. She _knew_ what was going to happen to me all along."

Remus sighs. He can do nothing else.

"I'm going to kill Bella," he says, after a pause. "Brutally."

"Don't go _looking_ for her, for Merlin's sake, Sirius."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because she'd stop at _nothing_ to destroy you. If you go looking for her, you won't come back."

"Maybe I don't want to come back."

"_Don't say that_." Remus' tone is uncharacteristically sharp, and Sirius falls silent, wondering what the young Hermione is doing. He glances at the grandfather clock in the corner.

Half past two.

Ancient Runes.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Well, the city I live in is in pieces, but the fanfiction is still coming. It's going to take more than chavs to stop me from updating. *insert badass smilie here* Anyway, thanks to those of you who reviewed the first chapter. Hope you enjoy this one too, and I promise, the next chapter is longer. Also, you can keep up with my progress, whining and general writerliness on my twitter page if you so wish. Username Flaignhan, same as on here, and the link is in my profile. Also forgot to thank those of you who'd reviewed _Making Amends_ last time, so I'll thank you now, you lovely people. Enough rambling, hope you enjoy, and do let me know what you think. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>The public are an awful bunch of cretinous bastards.<p>

Sirius is attacked three times in the space of five minutes in the Leaky Cauldron, and eventually decides to leave the rest of his mead behind.

"_Murderer!_"

"You'd _think_," he says loudly and pointedly, "that if I didn't give a damn about murdering innocent people, I'd take care of anybody who was stupid enough to antagonise me."

The crowd bristles and falls silent, some eyes darting away from him, others still fixed determinedly on him, glaring at every inch of him. Keeping his hand on his wand, ready to withdraw it and protect himself at the slightest sign of a jinx or curse, he winds his way between the tables, heading towards the back door of the pub. After a tense silence he reaches the small square out the back, taps his wand on the brickwork, and steps forth into Diagon Alley.

He doesn't really feel like shopping, but he's sick of that house, and sick of those dark walls pressing in on him. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stands out brightly in the grim and chilly shopping parade, and he decides that it's high time he paid the twins a visit.

"Sirius!" Fred calls cheerfully over the bustling crowd. Several people turn around in alarm, and suddenly, Sirius finds himself with plenty of space around him. Fred smiles apologetically and beckons him over. People scatter out of his way with every step he takes, and he feels about as welcome as a niffler in a jewellery shop.

The final insult comes when a globule of spit lands on the toe of his boot. He looks up to see a snarling, middle aged man, eyes narrowed, his heavily eyebrowed children crushed behind him. Sirius' fingers itch for his wand, but he knows it will do his reputation no good.

George appears between the two of them, while Fred watches grimly from his position on the balcony.

"This man is innocent, and a very dear friend."

It is the darkest tone Sirius has ever heard from either of the twins, and despite the fact that George is a couple of inches shorter than the man and wearing lurid magenta robes, he is an intimidating presence.

"I'd like you to apologise, and then I'd like you to leave my shop."

The man turns to look at Fred, as if appealing to him, but Fred simply gives him a look that says 'we're all waiting', and folds his arms.

"I'm sorry," the man mumbles, his head bowed in humiliation.

"The door's over there," George says, gesturing firmly towards the exit.

The man and his children leave and George waves his wand, the spit from Sirius' boot vanishing instantly.

"If anyone else has a problem," Fred says, and everyone in the shop looks up to where he's standing, arms resting on the bannister running along the edge of the balcony, "Feel free to leave now."

There is a tense silence, but nobody moves.

"Come on mate," George says, putting an arm round Sirius' shoulders and guiding him towards the back of the shop. "We've got some pretty cool stuff to show you."

Gradually the noise builds again and Fred leaps over the balcony edge, landing neatly on the counter where a blonde girl is hastily serving the throng of customers. She gives Sirius a small smile and returns her attention to a heavy set girl with an armful of love potions.

"I'm afraid we're only allowed to sell three per customer," the blonde girl tells her. "They're included in the restricted trades act."

Sirius doesn't get to hear the girl's feeble argument, for Fred and George have showed him into the back room, the walls lined with wooden crates, tables littered with half finished products, notes, drawings, chocolate frog cards, a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey and some official looking letters.

"The Ministry liked our Shield Hats," Fred says, sweeping one off of the arm of a sofa that looks far too ornate to be in the messy storage room of a joke shop. He places it on his head dramatically, George raises his wand and fires.

The spell rebounds.

All he can think of is Hermione, and what would have happened if she'd been wearing one.

"The charm fades after a while of course," George says quietly, as Fred's smile slides from his face. They realise they've set something off in his head, his face must be giving him away.

"The Ministry have put in bulk orders for cloaks and gloves and all sorts of things," Fred continues, but the words don't settle in Sirius' mind. "Every little helps, eh?"

A glass is pressed into his hand, and Sirius looks up to see George, then down at the glass, which has a generous helping of Firewhiskey swirling inside it. He nods his thanks and George pats him roughly on the shoulder. Sirius drains the whiskey, swallows the lump in his throat along with it and turns to Fred.

"So is it always this busy in here? Or is it just because we're getting close to Christmas?"

Fred's shoulders sag in relief and he starts talking, quickly and excitedly, and soon Sirius is able to almost keep his mind off of her.

For the entire length of his visit however, he is quite conscious of the fact that somewhere towards the back of his head, there is a desperate longing for her to be there too, laughing and holding his hand.

It is a longing that never leaves him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Chapter three! Bit longer this time. And I promise it won't stay grim forever. We will be moving to happier times eventually, when we go back. Anyway, mega thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter, and extra thanks to those who take the time to do it regularly. I always really appreciate feedback, and it's always fun to read your reactions. Hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"I found this."<p>

Sirius drops his mug, but with the kind of reflexes that any quidditch team would long for, Hermione stoops quickly and catches it.

"Sorry," she says, handing it back to him. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Sirius doesn't know what to say, and so instead looks down at the small silver object in Hermione's hand. The sight of it pierces him like a knife.

"I was in the library," she says, "and it was behind one of the books. I wondered...well, I wondered if it meant something to you."

He picks it up, his fingertips brushing against the palm of her hand. They burn with the contact, but he's more concerned with the locket. She's right, it does mean something to him. But at the same time it confuses him.

He slips it into his pocket and then dares to meet her eyes.

It hurts.

"Thank you," he croaks, then clears his throat. "Thanks."

"We're heading back to Ron's for dinner in a few hours, you should -"

"I have stuff to do here."

"Harry thinks you're out. He's given up looking for you."

Sirius sighs. He's not entirely sure what the point of him being alive is, if he's successfully avoiding being a proper godfather. It's the only thing he's got left on earth, and he doesn't want anything to do with it, not now.

He feels terrible of course. It's not Harry, it's not really anything to do with Harry. It's the fact that Harry doesn't know, and so he can't appreciate how difficult the situation is. Harry, like most teenage boys, can't really appreciate how it feels to be in Sirius' shoes. He doesn't _want_ him to, either. To appreciate is to understand, and to understand is to know something of the pain he feels. He doesn't want Harry to know what that's like.

"Where have you been hiding?" she asks.

"The attic." It's habit by now for him to tell her everything automatically.

She gives him one of her looks. One of those 'what are we going to do with you?' looks that make him feel like he's about six.

"Come and see him," she says. "He's worried."

He is on the verge of coming up with some sort of excuse, but then she holds out her hand.

He looks at it for a long moment, and then, as though he is a puppet controlled by strings, his own hand moves forward to take hers.

"Found him," she says when they reach the kitchen. "He didn't hear us down here, he was upstairs."

She's making up excuses for him, and he can tell Harry doesn't believe it for a second, but he swallows his misgivings and gets up to hug Sirius.

"Don't hide away," he says quietly. "It won't help you."

He then sets about making tea, while Ron offers Sirius the biscuit barrel. Its contents are low, and the fine crumbs clinging to Ron's jumper leave him in no doubt as to why.

For some reason it makes him smile, and even though she's there, sitting next to him and giving him concerned glances, regular as clockwork, he starts to feel a little more normal.

The more normal he feels the more they push their luck, and eventually his arm is twisted, he has a shower, dons some clean robes and returns with them to the Burrow. There are nearly two dozen people there, and all two dozen of them make the extra effort to keep his mind on the right track.

Molly's cooking reminds him of Hogwarts though, and to be reminded of Hogwarts is to be reminded of _her_.

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><p>He ventures into the dusty library, not bothering to cast a cleaning charm before he gets to work. He can still see the traces of where Hermione had been browsing the previous day, slender trails in the dust on the spines of books, footprints on the floorboards.<p>

His fingers are stained with grey after only a few seconds of searching, and eventually he has a stack of books so high that he knows she'd be proud of him, and carries them over to the desk. He doesn't levitate them - he doesn't do unnecessary magic very often at all these days. He likes to hold things, likes to feel them, because the hollow in his chest is doing a very good job of convincing him that he's as dead as she is. Feeling the gritty dust under his fingers, the strain of his muscles as he lugs the gigantic tomes over to the desk, and the hot prickle in his eyes when he dumps them down and a cloud of dust puffs out and drifts upwards towards his face, irritating his senses, it all reminds him that he's still a functioning human being. Just about.

He's not sure how long he spends reading. What he does know is that the sun has disappeared and risen again a few times, his beard is in desperate need of a trim, and his hair could do with a wash. His mouth is dry and the backs of his legs are numb. He hasn't moved from the spot for a very long time.

"Sirius?"

He doesn't answer. He just turns the page of his book, his eyes itching with tiredness, though neither his heart nor his head give a damn. He's not done it yet. He can't sleep until he's done it.

He doesn't know why it's so important to him, though he supposes he's just desperate to make sure he has her in his life, to make sure that she's not as scared or worried as she could be. After all, what happened to her would be enough to send anybody into a breakdown, but not her. She got on with things, as she always did.

"How long have you been in here?"

Sirius glances up. Molly is standing in the doorway, sympathy etched across her wan features. He holds her gaze for a few seconds and turns his attention back to his book. He breathes in deeply, because the smell of old parchment and battered leather reminds him of her, of that smell she always had on her hands, especially when they were still at Hogwarts.

The inch of dust on the floorboards muffles Molly's footsteps as she slowly approaches. Her hand reaches out to pick up the locket, and Sirius' eye travels upwards, following its progress, making sure to keep it in sight at all times.

"Was she not wearing it when she -?"

"She was."

"But you have another?"

"No," he says. "This is the original. Before she got it."

"And you're going to give it to her?"

He nods.

"So what are you reading all these books for?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You can't save her, sweetheart," she says, placing the locket back on the table with a dull clunk. "She's gone."

"_I_ was gone. But she saved _me_."

She squeezes his shoulder, and after a short pause, steers the conversation in a different direction. "Come to dinner at our place tonight," she says, summoning a chair and sitting opposite him. "Remus will be there, and Kingsley, and Tonks..."

Sirius shakes his head.

"You haven't eaten in _days_."

"I don't _care_."

"_She would_."

Sirius slams the book shut, and an explosion of dust issues from the pages. He can feel the rage flooding through his body, burning him from the inside out.

How _dare_ she talk about Hermione? How _dare_ she?

"She died to save you, and this is what you do?" Molly says sharply before he can get a word in edgeways. "You squander the life she gave you by hiding away and refusing to see people? Refusing to look after yourself when she _died_ to keep you safe?"

His blood starts to bubble in his veins as he reaches boiling point.

"She wouldn't _want this_, Sirius," she says imploringly, "She'd want you to have a _life_."

"She _was_ my life!"

He stands abruptly, the chair shooting out from behind him as his chest heaves with every laboured breath. To her credit, and it is something Sirius will notice later, once his anger has settled and his temper is back where it belongs, Molly does not flinch when he shouts, nor does she look remotely intimidated as he towers over her, casting her in shadow.

"I'll save you some dinner," she says. "Beef stroganoff. I can send Errol over with a batch later if you like."

He says nothing, he doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, and soon Molly turns and leaves, and he is alone once more, as he always will be.

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><p>"I'd like you to have this," he says, the locket dangling from his index finger by the chain, swinging from side to side like a pendulum. Her eyes follow its movements, then eventually she takes it from him, and inspects the fine carvings on the outer shell of it, traces her fingers over the silver, before looking up at him, a slight frown on her face.<p>

"Why?" she asks.

"Consider it a late Christmas present," he says avoiding her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Just trust me," he tells her, "And wear it. Always."

She looks down at it again, and strokes her thumb across the surface of it.

"It's very beautiful," she says, and her eyes meet his for a second that hurts him more than he believed was possible.

He knows he's still alive though, and that's why it's good. He needs to be reminded that he's still among the living, and the young, walking dead.

Her fingers fumble with the clasp and she fastens it around her neck, the small silver oval sitting in just the right place on her chest. She looks down at it, her thumb fiddling with the tiny catch on the side. She frowns.

"I think it's stuck."

Sirius shakes his head. "It's not supposed to open. Not yet, anyway."

Hermione eyes him curiously, one dark eyebrow slightly arched, and he feels rather like an Aritchmancy equation. His mouth twists into an odd, unfamiliar position, and he realises he's _smiling_. Smiling because soon, she's going to be looking at his younger self in exactly the same way, with her hands on her hips to give that extra feeling of authority. It's a look that she will see Lily bestow on James many a time, and a look that is followed by a shared smirk between the two women.

It is a look he misses almost as much as the people who wore it.

The look melts away as her own lips curve into a smile, mirroring his own, and for the first time he feels comfortable meeting her gaze.

"Harry's going to be pleased," she tells him. "He's been so worried about you."

"I know," he sighs. "I know. I...I've just -"

"I _know_," she says, and she reaches out to his arm. "He understands. He's just been worried."

"He doesn't understand," Sirius replied, his smile fading as quickly as it had come. "He can't understand. He doesn't know all the facts."

"He knows you loved her," she says, "that's all he needs to know."

He stares at her for a good ten seconds before he turns and leaves. If he'd stayed any longer he would never have stopped looking.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Morning all! Or evening, if, as I imagine a good portion of you are, you're in a different time zone. Anyway, chapter four here. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. Nothing makes me quite so happy as opening my inbox and finding reviews. Lovely jubbly! Hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"How are you?"<p>

Sirius pulls at a loose thread on his sleeve, his eyes flicking around the room, looking at anything except the piercing blue eyes in front of him. He casts his mind around to find an adequate word to answer Dumbledore's question, but he can only find one, a bitter one.

"Alive."

Dumbledore sighs. "She's been to see me you know. Asking after you. You must learn to cope, Sirius. She'll find out if you don't."

Sirius says nothing. Somehow, in his twisted logic, he has managed to blame Dumbledore for Hermione's death. He's not quite sure why. There are a whole host of things that Dumbledore deserves the blame for, but this isn't one of them. Not directly at least. He can lay awake for hours and justify his bitterness to himself, but all it comes down to in the end is that she knew what she was doing.

She chose her path.

Or perhaps it had already been chosen for her.

"Have you thought about getting a job?"

"No."

"It might take your mind off of things."

"Hermione."

"I'm sorry?"

"Her name isn't '_things'_. Why does everybody keep calling her '_things'_?"

Dumbledore sighs again, more heavily this time, then changes the topic. "You'll stay for the quidditch I presume? Harry would be pleased."

"Of course I'm staying for the quidditch," Sirius says impatiently. "Why do you think I agreed to come here? Surely not for the banter?"

Dumbledore's lips curve into a grim smile, and he stands, his blackened hand picking up his wand and slipping it into the pocket of his robes.

"Time to take a walk down to the pitch then," he says brightly, and Sirius follows him from the office, his hands dug deep in his pockets.

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><p>"Here," she says, handing him and Remus a large Gryffindor rosette each.<p>

Sirius clumsily pins it to the lapel of his jacket, ignoring the wary looks both he and Remus are getting from the students. A couple of fourth years actually stop and point, whispering behind cupped hands to each other.

"Ten points from Slytherin!" Hermione barks.

"What for, _Granger_?" the tallest one demands, saying her name with obvious disgust.

"Rudeness, gossip, general unpleasantness. Now on you go, or it'll be ten more."

"Take as many points as you like, Granger," the boy says airily, "It won't make your blood any cleaner."

He doesn't realise what he's doing, doesn't notice that he's drawn his wand, doesn't even consider the fact that the nasty little brat can't be older than fifteen.

But fifteen is old enough to know better.

A hand grips his, forcing his wand to point towards the ground, while the wide eyed Slytherin boys scuttle off, as fast as they can. Sirius is breathing heavily, while hatred flows through him, igniting every last bit of aggression that has been lying dormant for all these months. He's been longing to do _something_. It had been the perfect opportunity, but she had stopped him. As she always had.

"You'd get into far too much trouble," she says seriously.

"It'd be worth it," he growls, and he's still so livid that her touch doesn't even burn his skin. Her hand is still on his, keeping his wand trained on the grass, while her eyes track the progress of the Slytherins across the grounds.

"Come on," Remus says, tugging him by the sleeve towards the stands. "The match'll be starting soon."

Hermione leaves them when she sees Neville, who is tall and gangly like his father, but round faced and kind looking like his mother. There is a pang in Sirius' chest as he remembers the people they once were.

"I thought we'd go and see Ron in the Hospital Wing after the match. Molly wants to know how he's getting on and I'm sure he'd appreciate a visit."

Sirius nods, and follows Remus to the stands, taking a seat as far away as he can from Snape, who eyes him with as much dislike as ever. Sirius can't bring himself to care anymore. He doesn't care about much at all, if he's being perfectly honest. Not even the blast of Madam Hooch's whistle can rouse any emotion from him. He waves a Gryffindor flag half heartedly and forces an encouraging smile at Harry whenever he looks over to the stands, but it isn't until the goalkeeper starts mucking about that he really starts to care about the game.

When the bludger collides with the back of Harry's head, Sirius lets out a yell of anger, mingled with fear. His heart is pounding in his chest, and as Harry plummets towards the ground, he remembers what living is like, and draws his wand, almost knocking Remus to the ground with the speed of his movement. One quick swish and a giant net appears in mid air. Harry lands in it, flailing like a rag doll, before Sirius lowers him to the ground.

He and Remus escort his stretcher to the Hospital Wing, and Sirius removes his rosette, knowing that the game is as good as lost.

"Is he all right?" Ron asks, his lips pressed together as he holds in a triumphant smile.

"Cracked skull," Remus tells him, while Madam Pomfrey begins to fuss. "McLaggen -"

"Yeah, I heard the commentary," Ron breaks into a full on grin as Madam Pomfrey wraps Harry's head in bandages. "Harry's going to _kill_ him."

"I don't doubt it," Remus sighs, taking a seat in between Harry and Ron's beds. Sirius nods at Ron in greeting and his grin falters as he nods back.

"James would have hexed him to within an inch of his life," Sirius says at last, his eyes on Harry, whose mouth is slightly ajar, the neck of his robes stained with blood. "Would have charmed that bat to beat the living daylights out of him non stop for the rest of his life."

"What's the spell for that?" Ron asks eagerly, shuffling his pillows behind his back and sitting up straighter.

"I'll thank you to not make more work for me, Mr Black!" Madam Pomfrey says firmly. "Goodness knows I had enough trouble with you when you were a _student_here. And that girlfriend of yours, my word, always getting into trouble, she was."

"Poppy," Remus' voice is distant and hard, and the floor feels as though it's made of custard. Sirius flops down onto the end of Harry's bed, his stomach churning, acid rising in his throat.

He can't bear for people to talk about her so casually. And he certainly can't bear Madam Pomfrey's suggestion that Hermione was a _nuisance_.

"She _died_, Poppy. Last summer." Remus is still talking, softly now, but the words ring in Sirius' head as though he has shouted them.

"I...oh, Sirius, I _am_ sorry."

He doesn't register her hand on his shoulder, nor does he take much notice of the embarrassment, bordering on shame in her voice.

"She was a lovely girl...very clever, very kind."

Ron is watching him, his expression more alert and concentrated than it ever has been before. None of them have ever been told who the woman that saved Sirius' life was. All they've been told is that Sirius was close to her, only the barest of facts, but enough to know that it's no-go area.

"I'm going home," he manages to say at last. "Tell Harry I...tell Harry he flew well."

He has to force his legs to carry him to the exit, along the corridor and down the stairs, across the entrance hall, down the stone steps and over the grounds. He's not sure how long it takes, all he knows is that he needs to get out of Hogwarts as soon as possible.

The place holds far too many memories.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **This is _technically_ a cheerful chapter. I quite like it anyway. It makes me smile. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter - hope you enjoy this one too!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>His dress robes are a little loose. He tries to puff out his chest to fill them, but he just ends up looking like a child. A child with greying hair and ever more prominent wrinkles. He smooths the rumples in his jacket, drags his fingers through his hair and turns to look at Remus.<p>

"All right?" he asks.

"You look fine," Remus replies. "Come on."

"I don't think it's a good i-"

"Shut up," Remus grabs him by the arm and hauls him from his bedroom.

"_She's_ going to be there."

"_She's_ been lots of places at the same time you have."

"Yes but she's _older_ now. She looks more and more like I remember _everyday_."

"It's only going to be for a few hours, come on. Stick with me and Dora." Remus gives him a gentle shove towards the stairs, but Sirius grabs the bannister, stopping himself before his legs automatically take the first step.

"Maybe I should just stay h-"

Remus gives him a more forceful shove, and Sirius is left with no choice other than to descend the stairs, his insides squirming. It's not just the fact that his godson's best friend is growing into the woman who will be the love of his life, it's the fact that he knows she's going to look exceptionally beautiful today, and the only thing he'll want to do is hold her.

He also knows it will probably be the last time he ever sees her.

* * *

><p>He can't help but snigger when he sees Harry, and for a moment, he forgets about everything that has been weighing on his mind. For his own protection, Harry is chubby and ginger, freckles dotted all over his round face. He does, of course, blend in with the other Weasleys, and it is with a slight mocking edge to his tone that Sirius refers to him as <em>Barney<em>.

"Shut it," Harry says, wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robes. "Can't you do something about these? They're so _tight_."

"You can use magic now - you're seventeen," Sirius reminds him, and Harry's eyes widen with realisation as he pulls out his wand and casts an Engorgement Charm on his clothes. Sirius holds in a smile as they become a little too long, and after a few minutes of Harry struggling to put them right, he intervenes and helps him.

"Stay away from Ron's Auntie Muriel."

The smile slides from Sirius' face as Hermione joins them, her eyebrows set in a scowl, her fingers clenched a little too tightly around her wand. Her lilac dress clings to her perfectly, her hair secured in a sleek and delicate style. He was right. She looks stunning, and once he realises he's staring, he closes his mouth quickly and tries to look politely interested in what she has to say.

"What's the matter?" Harry asks.

"'Oh, you're the _muggleborn_, are you?' Like I was some sort of slug! _And _she said I had skinny ankles and bad posture. I mean _really_. Do people just hit a hundred and lose their manners?"

"Your posture's fine," Sirius blurts out. "And your ankles are too."

She smiles, her teeth gleaming in the bright sunlight. "Thanks," she says. "It's good to see you."

"And you," his voice is on the verge of cracking, and Remus sweeps in at just the right minute, like a superhero, tells Hermione she looks lovely, then informs her that Ginny's looking for her because she needs some help with her dress.

"Ginny's in the lounge," Harry says, his orangey eyebrows contorting into a frown. "And she's already wearing her dress."

"Oh...you know what girls are like, always fussing," Remus tells him, clapping him on the back. "Why don't we go and get champagne?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Sirius asks, as Remus takes three full champagne flutes from a passing silver tray and hands one each to Harry and Sirius.

"Let's say _merry_."

"I don't do merry," Sirius replies, taking a sip of his champagne before draining the lot, while Harry looks on, his mouth a little ajar.

"What do you do then?"

Sirius' face cracks into a wry grin. "I spoil the atmosphere." He takes another glass of champagne, and by the time Bill takes his position at the front of the tent and Fleur begins her walk down the aisle, his head is spinning, he feels sick, and he can't stop looking at Hermione.

* * *

><p>While the canapés alone may have sobered him, the constantly refilling champagne glasses are too much of a temptation to resist. He can almost cope as a drunk, because nothing feels real, and if it's not real, then it can't hurt.<p>

And it can't hurt to approach her with his hand out.

"Dance with me."

She looks slightly shocked at the request, but takes his hand regardless and gets to her feet.

"Sirius," Remus says warningly. "I don't think -"

"I was a good dancer! I don't think Azkaban took that away. At least I hope not or this will be _embarrassing._" He's slurring his words, and he doesn't care. He cares that his breath might stink of alcohol, that he may end up falling over and crushing Hermione on the floor because he's so careless and clumsy, but he doesn't care about his slurring, not one bit.

He can feel eyes on him - Molly and Arthur have paused in their conversation with Fleur's parents, Bill is watching carefully over Fleur's shoulder while they dance, even Fred and George have stopped trying it on with Fleur's veela cousins to watch events unfold with bated breath. Remus is staring at him hard, his expression effectively communicating that if he does something stupid, he will pay for it. Tonks is biting her lip, her hand finding Remus' and interlacing their fingers.

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, have their lips twisted into a half amused smile. They alone find his drunkenness amusing, and even more amusing is the fact that Hermione is the victim of the champagne's effects.

She, however, does not seem to mind. She places one hand on his shoulder, and Sirius finds himself dancing automatically, his feet doing a very good job of convincing all the strangers in the room that he is completely sober. His head, on the other hand, is convincing him very much of the opposite. Everyone around them is blurring into a mass of colour, but he can see her clearly in front of him, see her laughing, smiling, shining.

He can still remember dancing with her at James and Lily's wedding.

She had shone then too.

When the song finishes, he releases her and goes to sit down. He feels very sober, and watches Remus' chest fall as he exhales a sigh of relief.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Not sure if I'll be able to update on Saturday - working bar at V festival all weekend and it's...well, it's not my favourite thing in the world. Long hours and bad pay don't leave too much time for editing and uploading, but we'll see. Hopefully this chapter will be suitably action packed enough to tide you over until Monday. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter,hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>The door bursts open, and Remus is standing there, looking as if he's dressed in a hurry.<p>

"Bit late, isn't it?" Sirius says, pulling his duvet higher up his chest to protect himself from the chilly breeze that accompanies Remus' arrival.

"We're fighting," he says breathlessly. "At Hogwarts. Harry's shown up."

Sirius sits bolt upright. "_What_?"

"Harry! They're saying he broke into Gringotts and stole a _dragon_, but that doesn't matter right now, get _dressed_, we're going to fight!"

Sirius leaps out of bed, dragging the clothes closest to hand onto his body. He roughly pushes his feet into his boots, pulls on his jacket, picks up his wand and races down the stairs with Remus, who steps into the fireplace first, and says loudly, "The Hog's Head!"

Sirius follows suit, and soon he is in the tightly packed pub, witches and wizards pressing in on him from all sides.

"Through the portrait!" Remus yells above the noise, and they force their way through, scrambling into the hole behind the picture frame. They scurry along the cramped passageway, and eventually, the small circle of light at the end of the tunnel grows and grows and grows.

They arrive in a room that Sirius has never seen before, and _everybody_ is there. Molly and Arthur look like they've been here for ages, Fred and George look well up for a fight. Fleur is looking fiercer than Sirius has ever seen her, Bill at her side with a resolute expression on his scarred face. And then Percy bursts through the portrait hole, wipes his glasses on the cuff of his sleeve and looks around at them all.

What follows is a display which epitomises everything they are fighting for. Molly holds Percy tightly, sobbing into his chest, Arthur's pale face sags in relief, and Fred and George look more pleased than if they'd just sold a million Skiving Snackboxes.

"Come on!" Kingsley calls. "Great Hall!"

There is a surge towards the door, and Sirius finds Remus in the mess of bodies.

"If we don't make it out," he says, gripping Remus' arm tightly. "I want you to know..." But he can't finish his sentence. "It would have been harder without you," he says at last.

"Just promise me you won't do anything stupid," Remus says. "Harry needs you."

"I'm going to take down every death eater I see. For Lily and James."

"For Frank and Alice," Remus adds, his expression dark, but determined.

"Gideon and Fabian."

"For Marlene."

"Mad-Eye."

"For Ted."

"For _Hermione_." His voice cracks and his eyes begin to water, but he stays strong. Tonight has been a long time coming. Tonight will see her death avenged. Perhaps, if he makes it through, he'll be able to start living again.

* * *

><p>He finds Harry in the Great Hall, and sidles up to him while McGonagall is addressing the students.<p>

"You stole a _dragon_?"

Harry turns, his jaw dropping, and throws his arms around Sirius, squeezing him so hard that Sirius thinks his ribs might crack.

"Is it true?" he asks, desperate to hear the full extent of his godson's heroism. Harry nods, and Sirius suppresses a grin. "Your dad would be so proud of you. And your mum."

Harry chews on his bottom lip, and Sirius puts his arm around Harry's shoulders, holding him close. He cannot lose him tonight. He made a promise to Lily and James when he became Harry's godfather, that he would protect him at all costs. With any other child, this would have been a fairly simple task, but keeping The Boy Who Lived from becoming The Boy Who Was Murdered A Bit Later Than Planned is nigh on impossible.

Voldemort's voice rings high and cold through the hall, and the hairs on the back of Sirius' neck stand on end. His grip tightens on Harry as Voldemort makes his demands, and when the Parkinson girl stands up and shrieks that they should just hand Harry over, Sirius draws his wand, ready to make a stand.

He doesn't need to though. All of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have turned to face the girl, their backs towards Harry, enclosing him on all sides. It is the biggest human shield Sirius has ever seen, and it is a mark of how brave, and how loved his godson is, that so many people are willing to fight to the death, rather than hand him over.

While the Slytherins are led out of the hall by Filch, his thoughts are on James and Lily.

* * *

><p>He feels alive.<p>

Spells are firing everywhere, bursts of coloured light colliding with the crumbling castle walls. He's already done away with seven masked figures, and now Rodolphus Lestrange seems to think he can take Sirius on.

Today, with all the adrenalin pumping through his veins, with Bellatrix still out there and Harry still fighting for his life, _nobody _can take him on and come out of it alive.

Like his wife, Rodolphus does not play fair. He dives straight in with Unforgivables, and Sirius is forced to dodge. He doesn't waste any time with defensive magic, he heads in for the kill immediately. Rodolphus manages to leap out of the way of the first jet of green light, which collides with a dark robed death eater behind him, sending him sprawling to the floor, while a blonde Gryffindor who looks far too young to have stayed behind widens his eyes and runs off to find a new opponent.

Pain rips through his body like he has never felt before, but then, with a flash of green light it's over, almost as quickly as it began. He looks to his right and sees Remus, his wand pointing at the spot where Rodolphus had been standing on his own two feet moments ago. Behind Remus is Dolohov, his twisted face set into a terrifying grin.

"_Avada_ -"

Sirius does not think. He dives at Remus, the pair of them tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Death rushes past them, missing by inches, and cracking a stone pillar behind them. Sirius looks up, raises his wand, and before Dolohov can even begin to defend himself, a jet of green light has hit him square in the chest.

He gets to his feet, pulling Remus up with him, but then sees something that makes his heart freeze.

Bellatrix.

Remus has seen it too, for he is already running, while his wife battles against the onslaught of spells that Bella is sending her way. Sirius finds himself running as well, shouting for people to get out of his way, pushing them aside.

He needs to get to her.

He needs to kill her.

He owes it to Hermione.

Bella has seen him too, for she has turned her attention away from Tonks, and she is now grinning at Sirius.

"How's your _girlfriend_?" Somehow, her voice manages to sound clearly throughout the noise of battle, and her cackle is even louder.

The taunt hangs in his ears and he draws his wand, casting the first curse. The Cruciatus Curse. Bella screams and falls to the floor, her body writhing in agony, while Remus looks on, aghast.

"You have fought valiantly," the high cold voice seems to emanate from every atom, filling his ears. He stops, looking about, those around him, both good and bad, doing exactly the same.

"Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery."

Sirius turns back to the spot where Bellatrix had been laying a moment ago.

She's gone.

He's failed. The rest of Voldemort's speech washes over him like the most insignificant of waves. He can't believe it. He's let her down. Again.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall has never been so terrible a place. He stumbles in with Remus and Tonks, and the reality of the situation hits him full force.<p>

They're _losing_.

He sees a collection of red headed people and staggers towards them. When he sees that they're crying over someone's body, his blood runs cold through his veins. He can see Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Fred or George. One of the twins at least. But that must mean...

He sees that the twin with the hollow expression on his tear stained face is missing an ear, which can only mean one thing.

"Fred," Harry croaks, coming to meet him.

Hermione is sitting on the bench with Ron, tears streaked down her face. There is a long gash in her cheek.

He remembers the scar that cut will become, and knows, without a doubt that she'll be leaving them soon.

* * *

><p>The sight of Harry being carried out of the forest, limp in Hagrid's arms while Voldemort cackles maniacally, is burned into his memory. It will haunt his dreams forever. He hears Hermione's scream, and all he can feel is a sense of betrayal.<p>

She promised him Harry would be fine.

But then several things happen in a very short space of time - Neville is suddenly elevated to hero status, with one swish of a sword, and Harry's body appears to have wandered off of its own volition, unseen by anybody. The battle recommences, moving inside, and Hermione, Ginny and the Lovegood girl are fighting Bellatrix.

"Move!" he yells at them, scattering the girls with a wave of his wand.

He doesn't even know which spells are erupting from his wand tip. All he knows is that he's never felt magic surge through him like this. It is dancing over his skin, causing the air around him to crackle with energy. He can feel it swirling around his heart, almost like a Patronus.

But then Bella swipes her wand and he is knocked to the floor. He's not sure what's just happened, but he can feel that something is very wrong.

Molly takes over, and Sirius watches in awe as she circles Bellatrix. The wand he has only ever seen produce feasts and clean houses is performing spells he never thought the middle aged witch was capable of.

Tonight, however, she has lost her son, and her other children are in danger.

Tonight, Molly Weasley is capable of anything.

Something catches the corner of his eye. A huge, hulking great mass of muscle and wiry hair is wreaking havoc, throwing people aside with ease as he moves towards a brown eyed girl who is backed against the wall.

"Hermione!" his voice tears through his throat, and he tries to raise his wand but can barely lift it an inch off the ground. At this moment he realises he has been bleeding copiously for a good few minutes, that it is taking all of his energy just to stay conscious, but he doesn't give a damn about his own well being.

She turns, and she runs, Greyback galloping after her. Bill and Ron chase after him, tackling him to the ground as spells of all kinds fly overhead.

Hermione is nowhere to be seen in the Entrance Hall beyond.

There is a burst of green light, and a collective intake of breath as the whole room turns to watch the curse hit Bellatrix full on the chest. She crumples. Voldemort screams.

And then there is Harry.

And then there is victory.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **It is too bloody early. Hope you guys enjoy reading this while I'm slaving away at V festival. (Not bitter, not bitter at all). Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, you all get internet cookies.

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><p><strong>One by One<em>. <em>**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>She's running fast. She doesn't think she's ever run so fast in all her life.<p>

And then she's falling.

And then there's nothing.

She opens her eyelids a crack and groans, the harshness of the light sending pain shooting through her head. Her entire body aches, and she feels as though she's fallen from the top of a tall tree, hitting every branch on the way down.

She then realises that she's damp, bordering on wet. The side of her face is cold and itchy.

The only sounds to be heard are those of the birds, the slight whistle of wind and rustle of branches. She's not sure how long she's been unconscious for, but she is quite sure that the battle is over.

So why is she laying outside on the ground? Why are her clothes soaked with dew? And why does her back feel so very warm, as though the sun is beating down on it, when the Dementors have been enforcing a chilly frost over the country all year?

Does this mean they won?

She tries to open her eyes again, and shifts her arm to protect herself from the light. She squints, and sees that the silver locket Sirius gave her so long ago is open. She picks it up, her curiosity stronger than the soreness in her limbs. There are two photographs in either side of the locket. One of herself, which she has no memory of posing for, and another of a dark haired teenager, smirking triumphantly.

"Find me. I'll look after you. I promise."

Hermione gasps and rolls over on the ground to see who has spoken, but there is nobody there. She is alone in the grounds of the castle. In the distance she sees the front doors open, and one tall figure and another much shorter one are hurrying across the grounds towards her. She snaps the locket shut, and during the speedy mayhem of being levitated onto a stretcher and carried inside while being asked a million and one questions ranging from 'Can you hear me?' to 'What's your name?' and 'How did you get here?', her brain gives up, and she loses consciousness.

* * *

><p>"She's been through the wars, this one Headmaster."<p>

"I can see that, Poppy. How severe are her injuries?"

"Severe enough. You still don't know where she came from?"

"I have my theories."

"And?"

"They're all rather unlikely I'm afraid."

She's not damp anymore. In fact, she's really quite warm, and feels as though she's been stuck to the bed with a Permanent Sticking Charm. She opens her eyes and her vision swims before her. The ceiling is a pale, off white colour, with fine cracks running through the paintwork, like a vast network of roads, all interconnected.

She tries to summon the energy to sit up, but she feels tired just at the thought of it. Instead, she tilts her head slightly to see Madam Pomfrey talking to a tall man with long grey hair wearing a set of purple robes.

"Ah!" Madam Pomfrey says, bustling over and helping Hermione into a sitting position, propping her pillows behind her back. "Drink this, dear." She summons a goblet and presses it against Hermione's lips, tilting it so the potion flows into her mouth. Hermione swallows it as best she can, but her body doesn't seem to be responding to even the most basic commands. Apparently breathing is about all it's capable of right now. But breathing's a start, and she can build on that.

His blue eyes stare straight through her, as though they can see inside her head, behind her eyes, her wearily beating heart thudding against her ribcage. Dumbledore has always had the capacity to make her feel like she is being x-rayed.

"You're alive."

It's a stupid thing to say, but he smiles, his eyes twinkling.

"I am indeed. And, more remarkably so, you are too."

"Yes," she says, frowning and looking around the Hospital Wing. "What happened?"

"Professor Flitwick and I found you drifting in and out of consciousness in the grounds. Can you tell us how you came to be there, Miss...?"

"I think your questions can wait, Headmaster," Madam Pomfrey says haughtily. "The poor girl's been through quite enough already."

"Very well, Poppy. But at least let the young lady tell us her name?"

"Hermione," she says, before Madam Pomfrey can protest. "Professor, I don't understand -"

"I think I do," Dumbledore says. "But I'll speak to you later, Madam Pomfrey is quite right, you need plenty of rest before we deal with the situation at hand."

"What _is_ the situation at hand?"

"Professor, _please_!"

Dumbledore nods at Madam Pomfrey, gives Hermione a look which assures her she will find out in good time (it is a look she is quite used to seeing him bestow on Harry) and sweeps from the room, his robes flowing behind him as if caught in a gentle breeze.

"Here, dear," Madam Pomfrey says, giving Hermione another goblet of potion, her eyes following Dumbledore's shrinking figure as he strides along the corridor.

As Hermione drinks her potion, she has a horrible idea that she and Dumbledore have come to the same conclusion. All the pieces of the puzzle are slotting into place, but instead of leaving her with an answer, she has more questions.

She knows whose voice had spoken the promise to keep her safe, and knows where that voice came from. She also knows who the boy in her locket is.

Her fingers reach up to touch the silver absentmindedly, and she can't help but feel like everything will work out, for now at least. She knows what's coming for her, in a distant and vague sort of way that is hard to swallow, but she doesn't mind too much, because something comes for them all in the end, and she's just glad she makes it worthwhile.

It also explains a lot.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore takes a seat by her bed, his hands clasped together, his eyes conveying a sense of polite curiosity.<p>

"You said you think you understand," Hermione says, fiddling with the edge of her blankets.

"I have hazarded a guess. A far fetched one, but one that is quite logical. I hope."

Hermione waits patiently for him to unveil his theory like a magician revealing the final part of his trick, and after a short pause, he begins to speak.

"You were rather surprised to see me alive," he says, apparently unconcerned that she has more or less confirmed his death in the future. "And you don't seem to be confused as to where you are, or who I am, yet, you have never set foot in this castle. At least, not in the established timeline."

_The established timeline._ The phrase makes her stomach clench, though she isn't quite sure why.

"The month is September. The year is 1977."

"Is Sirius here?" she asks. "Sirius Black?"

"He is indeed," Dumbledore replies with a smile. "Good to know one of my most troublesome students will make a name for himself one day."

Hermione's eyebrows shoot up on her forehead and she just manages to bite back the words that threaten to tumble from her mouth.

Her insides squirm as she realises that if Sirius is here, then Wormtail is too. She's not sure how on earth she'll manage to keep herself from cursing him into a million pieces, but that's something she'll have to work out in her own time. The other thing that causes her insides to lurch unpleasantly are the victims of Wormtail's betrayal. James and Lily will be here, young, whole, and alive. She feels like she has stolen something precious from Harry just by being in the same building as them. It's not right.

"Do you have any idea how you got here? It might give us a clue as to how to get you back," Dumbledore says, interrupting her train of thought.

She shakes her head. "I'm not going back."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because I've...well, I've heard of me, in the future."

It takes a great deal of effort not to reveal to Dumbledore that she knows the exact date of her death, the cause, and the perpetrator.

"Oh?"

"Well," she says, not wanting him to think her careless. "It didn't make sense before, but it does now."

Dumbledore nods. "So, if you're staying, which house will you be in?"

"Gryffindor," she says, unable to keep the smile from her face. She's going to see the Gryffindor common room again. She's missed that place so much. And Sirius will be there, and Remus, and the only thing keeping her together is Sirius' promise to look after her. Knowing she will be fine in here, in the past, or the present, as she must learn to think of it, means that she has a lot more time to spend worrying about the future.

"With Mr Black..." Dumbledore says knowingly. "Very well. I believe Madam Pomfrey will _release_ you in the next few days. I'll send Lily and James down to greet you. Head Boy and Girl, both in Gryffindor." There is a slightly smug look resting on his unfamiliarly young features, mingled with an expression of fierce pride.

He leaves, and Hermione takes a moment to give herself a mental pat on the back. She hasn't panicked, not yet. She's not sure she will, if she's honest. She knows she is here for definite, and there's almost a sense of comfort to be found in the fact that she is completely trapped in the past, with no way out.

If she's being selfish, and quite frankly, after the year she's had, she's okay with taking just a moment to be a little self centred, it's almost like she's been saved, and she's _glad_. She doesn't have to consider the war, nor does she have to worry about the safety of her friends. It's like that world has been frozen and placed inside a snow globe. None of it feels real, despite the scars she has from the deep cuts on her arms and face, despite the fact that she still aches all over from the battle.

It feels like she's woken up from a nightmare.

And now Sirius Black is about to mean something to her. _Properly_ mean something to her. He's going to mean so much to her that she'll lay down her life for him in nineteen years' time. She's not sure how she feels about it.

She opens the locket, and examines the picture of him. He's barely recognisable. He's so _young_, and his hair falls over his grey eyes which, despite their pale colour, still manage to convey a sense of warmth.

He's not her best friend's godfather anymore, because her best friend is nothing but a biological accident waiting to happen.

A good accident, though. A brave accident.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Survived the weekend, just about. Am now going to spend today in bed writing and eating bad things. It's the only way I know how to recover. XD Anyway, thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, hope you enjoy this one! =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>Harry is an almost perfect copy of James outwardly, but inwardly he is a perfect rendition of Lily. His heart is as kind and understanding as hers, and his gentle nature and determination to be completely <em>good<em> are a constant reminder of the red haired woman who had threatened to put him in detention several times when they were both teenagers.

Harry is sitting across from him now, in Dumbledore's office, Ron next to him, while the portraits watch in a hushed silence, Phineas Nigellus sneering at Sirius from his frame.

"Dumbledore said -" Harry begins, his voice hoarse as he forces the words out. His eyes flick up the spot where Dumbledore's portrait hangs, largest amongst all the paintings. Snape, next to Dumbledore, watches shrewdly, his fingers pressed together.

"She's fine," Sirius says at last. "She's...she's in the past." He's still feeling weak from Bella's curse, despite Madam Pomfrey's stellar efforts and half a dozen blood replenishing potions. His tiredness makes all of this harder to deal with, but he has no choice in the matter. He can't tell Harry and Ron to keep their questions until morning.

"How?"

"That, Harry, remains one of life's great unsolved mysteries. Not even Hermione knew how it happened," Dumbledore says, and Sirius shoots him a glare. He has referred to her in past tense before the news has been broken to them. Ron doesn't appear to have noticed, but Harry's head is in his hands. "I think, perhaps, with all the damage the castle has suffered, all the broken enchantments and all kinds of dark magic shooting all over the place that there may have been some sort of reaction. I cannot be sure, of course. But for now, it is the only theory I have."

Sirius reaches into his pocket and pulls out a collection of photos he's been saving for the conversation he has been dreading for two years. It hurts to see her waving at him cheerily from the dog eared photographs. In one she's sitting by the lake, deeply immersed in a book, in another, she and Lily are arm in arm, giggling over one thing or another, he can't recall what the joke was. Sirius gulps, and places the one that hurts the most on the table so Harry and Ron can see.

Taken at James and Lily's wedding, he's sporting an elegant set of dress robes, while Hermione shines brightly, her bridesmaid's dress flowing around her, her hand linked with his.

Finally, he puts down the last photo, and until now, he thought Harry's jaw could fall no lower.

"That's me, isn't it?" he says, his eyes widening at the sight of himself as a tiny baby in his best friend's arms.

Sirius nods, his heart aching for a time when the damaged teenage hero in front of him was just an infant. When things were still bad, but when he still had his friends. When he still had _her_.

"So where is she then?" Ron asks, looking up from the photo which Harry is now holding delicately in his thin fingers. "You're here, so she must be here too. She'll be the same age as you though, right?"

Sirius doesn't answer, and Harry looks up slowly.

"Sirius."

He shakes his head, words failing him. He looks towards Dumbledore, who is silent. His blue eyes have lost their twinkle. He, like Sirius, can't bear to bring news of another loss, after all they've suffered today.

He gathers the courage to meet Harry's eyes, and sees painful recognition flickering there.

"What happened to her?" Ron demands, looking between Sirius and Dumbledore's portrait. "What? Where is she?"

"You _know_ what happened to her Ron," Harry says quietly. "She...she saved Sirius' life."

Ron stands abruptly. "No."

"Yes," Sirius whispers. "If I could change it -"

"You could have stopped her from going back! You could have saved her!"

Sirius shakes his head. "Paradox."

"But...how could you...I mean, you and her...she's _half_ your age!"

"_Ron_," Harry says, his tone hard. His face is stained with tears already, his bottom lip trembling. "They were the _same age_ when he met her."

"Yeah but...I mean...this is too...too _weird_."

"Ron she's _dead_, I don't think it matters who she was with." Harry's fists are clenched and he's staring at the desk, his tears dripping quietly onto the wooden surface. Sirius wonders if he'd worked it out before now. He seems far too resigned to the circumstances for it to be a shock to him. He probably worked it out the second he found out she was missing.

"But..." Ron sinks into his chair, his face crumpling. He buries his head in his arms, and his shoulders shake with sobs. Sirius knows what he is going through.

One of the most terrible feelings in the world is having Hermione Granger taken away from you before you've had a proper chance at having a life with her. None of them are ever going to see her ever again, and it's almost with relief that he comes clean to his godson.

"Was she happy?" Harry asks.

"I..." Sirius doesn't know how to answer. The last time he saw her before she died, she had cried all night. And in the years since he broke out of Azkaban, she only broke into a smile on rare occasions.

In those four glorious years before James and Lily were killed, however, she was. Definitely.

He picks up the photo of the pair of them at James and Lily's wedding, committing the details to memory. He hands it to Harry, who wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good," he says. "Good."

"She didn't just do it for me," Sirius says at last, when he thinks he can struggle through a full sentence without his voice cracking. "It was for you, too. After you'd lost your Mum and Dad...I don't think she thought it was fair that you lose your godfather too."

Harry nods, his hand finding his way to Ron's shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Sirius can't stand to watch the two of them grieve, and so he turns his gaze towards the portraits instead. Dumbledore has his eyes closed, his forehead resting against the palm of his hand, while Snape is staring down at his own hands, clasped in his lap. He looks up, his black eyes meeting Sirius' grey ones, and for the first time, Sirius is able to appreciate that in life, Snape was a human being. He knows exactly how he feels. He lost Lily, and he blames himself, just as Sirius blames himself for Hermione.

And just as Snape would give anything to have switched places with Lily, Sirius has never wished more that Bella's Stunning Spell had hit its intended victim.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I have good news my darlings! When I finally shift over into my new flat for good, the internet will be up and running already, so there will be no interruption to the nice regular updates I have been providing. Isn't that fab? It also means I get the iPlayer and Sky anytime which is also jolly good, though less relevant to you guys. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"Okay, so, this is the entrance to Gryffindor tower," Lily tells her as they approach the portrait of the Fat Lady.<p>

"Right," Hermione says, pretending that this is new information.

"The password is Geronimo, for now at least. It'll probably change just before Christmas."

"New student, dear?" the Fat Lady asks, watching Lily fondly.

"Yes, her name's Hermione," Lily replies, gesturing towards her.

"Lovely to meet you dear, anything you need just ask! We portraits know a thing or two about the castle!"

Hermione smiles and thanks her, before following Lily through the portrait hole and into the common room. It's full with chattering students, while others force their way through stacks of homework, books piled around them, notes littering their tables. The fire is crackling in the hearth, giving the familiar room a homely glow.

She bites her lip. It's been so long since she was last here, and it is a symbol of safety, of comfort, and of happiness. Her heart aches when she looks around, not knowing a single face, but then James bounds up to her, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her over to the fireplace.

"Oi!" he yells, and everyone stops. As Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, he pretty much has full reign over the entire house. Hermione doesn't miss the smirk that graces his face momentarily, as he surveys his audience. Lily is standing at the back of the room, her hands on her hips, her eyebrows set in a frown.

"This is Hermione. She's new. Be nice, or Evans will chop you up into little pieces and feed you to the werewolf in the Forbidden Forest."

Hermione notices Lily's eyes flash dangerously, but it's not the suggestion that she would chop anybody up that is the cause. A sandy haired boy with a shiny prefect's badge pinned to his chest is standing to the left of Lily, caught halfway between fear and amusement. Lily turns to him and says something quietly, before striding forwards and leading Hermione away from James.

"I'll show you where you're sleeping," she says. "Ignore James. He's a bit of an idiot."

Hermione laughs softly. James reminds her painfully of Fred, the louder of the twins, never afraid to make a scene, but always, _always_ good natured.

Their path is blocked when they reach the stairs, and Hermione's hand shoots involuntarily towards her locket. He is just the same as he is in the picture. Apparently his triumphant smirk is a permanent feature, and his dark hair falls softly over his eyes, in a stylishly untidy sort of way.

"Oh Sirius, not _now_," Lily sighs. "Let her settle in before you make a move on her, all right?"

Hermione feels the heat rise in her cheeks and tries to fight it, but Sirius has noticed, and his smirk becomes even more pronounced. His eyes linger on the long cut on her cheek, that Madam Pomfrey had been unable to mend by magic, and Hermione feels very aware of the split in her skin.

"What if she _wants_ me to make a move on her, Evans?"

"I doubt that _very_ much. He's a complete scoundrel, Hermione. Don't even think about it. He'll charm you and then he'll break your heart."

Hermione says nothing. She knows he won't be breaking her heart - she'll be breaking his when she takes that hit for him. She'll leave him a shadow of his former self. But maybe she can fix that. Maybe she can make the future a little better for someone. He deserves it more than most. Though of course right now, he has no idea of that.

"Kneazle got your tongue?" Sirius asks, leaning towards her, his hand resting against the wall of the staircase. "Why so shy?"

"Not shy," she says. "Just thinking."

"About me?"

"Not really." It's a lie, technically, but she finds it hard to connect the cocky teenager in front of her and the broken man whose descent into depression she has been watching for the past two years.

Sirius frowns, while Lily laughs and pushes him out of the way of the staircase. She and Hermione climb the stairs, leaving a scowling Sirius in the common room.

"Seriously though," Lily says as she opens the door to the seventh year girls' dormitory. "He's been through every 'good looking' girl in our year...and a few of the not so good looking ones." She frowns, as though this puzzles her, and then shrugs. "But anyway, this is the dormitory. And this is your bed." She gestures towards the bed nearest the window, the blankets arranged neatly, the curtains secured at each of the four posts.

There is a trunk at the end of her bed, with the initials HG printed on the sides in gold leaf lettering. She frowns, and approaches it, fiddling with the fastenings before opening the lid.

"I think the elves brought that up earlier. It wasn't here this morning at any rate," Lily says, watching her quietly. She sits down on the bed opposite Hermione's, presumably her own, and Hermione can feel her green eyes staring at her curiously.

Inside the trunk is a neatly folded selection of school robes and muggle clothes, school books, parchment, ink, quills, and a large satchel, with more than enough space inside for her to lug her books between lessons. Dumbledore has seen to it that she has everything she needs, marvellous man that he is, and Hermione wants nothing more than to collapse on her bed and relish in the feeling of being _home_.

* * *

><p>"What're you up to?" Sirius plonks himself on the arm of Hermione's chair, and reaches out to tilt her book so he can see the title.<p>

"Well," Hermione says, "I've got a book in my hands and I'm looking at the words in it. I'd hazard a guess at reading, though I could be wrong of course."

Sirius chuckles. "Playing hard to get? That's okay, I can deal with that."

Hermione shakes her head, though she is smiling. "This approach is _never_ going to work. I know you're only interested in me because I'm _new_. I'm not stupid."

"You're wrong," Sirius tells her, trying and failing to tug the book out of her hands. "I'm interested in you because you're new _and_ good looking. And because you're yet to have a reason to hate me, which vastly increases my chances of -" he stops, catching himself just in time before he says something that Hermione thinks she could justify slapping him for.

"Your chances of _what_?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

"My chances of...taking you to Hogsmeade."

"I can take myself to Hogsmeade," Hermione replies, returning her attention to her book.

"Yeah, I _know_ that," he says, struggling for what Hermione imagines is one of the first times in his life when talking to a girl. "But you need somebody to show you around..."

"What were you planning? A guided tour of Zonko's?" She turns the page of her book, though she's not really concentrating hard enough to retain anything other than the basic gist of what's written. She's very aware of the way he smells. It's the same expensive aftershave he will wear as an adult. It's not something she had particularly noticed before, but now her head is littered with memories of Grimmauld Place.

"We can go to Zonko's if you like," Sirius says. "I was thinking maybe a walk round the town, a visit to Tomes and Scrolls...a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks..."

"Maybe ask me when I'm not in the middle of something," she says, idly flicking her page over.

"But -"

"I'm trying to _read_."

"Yeah but -"

"You're blocking my light."

He tries again to snatch the book out of her hands but Hermione holds it out of reach.

"I'm better looking than that book you know," he says sulkily.

"I can't say I'd noticed."

Remus snorts, looking up for the first time from his position on the sofa. He too is doing his Transfiguration homework, his parchment and quill resting on the arm of the sofa so he can make occasional notes.

"Something funny, Moony?"

Remus just shakes his head and smiles, before turning to Peter, who is tugging his sleeve, a desperate look in his watery eyes as he tries to get through the first page of the chapter they've been set.

Sirius returns his attention to Hermione.

"Why don't you like me?" he asks quietly, for the first time careful not to be overheard.

"It's not that I don't _like_ you," Hermione tells him, and his face brightens. "It's that you took one look at me and decided you wanted to ask me out. It's hardly the basis of a deep and meaningful relationship."

"I can do deep," he says defensively, then, lowering his voice even more, "I can do it anyway you want, actually."

Hermione shoves him off of the arm of her chair and he lands in a mess on the floor, the wind knocked out of him. James, who is bothering Lily on the other side of the common room, takes some time out to roar with laughter, while the other Gryffindors snigger quietly. Lily smirks, and gives Hermione the thumbs up.

A blush rises in Hermione's cheeks, and it's not because she's the centre of attention, it's because she's just been propositioned by her best friend's godfather, and she hasn't known him nearly long enough in this time for that to be all right, in her opinion.

"Wise move," Remus says quietly once the noise has died down. "He's a good friend," he continues, "But an awful boyfriend."

"And you'd know how?" Hermione asks, smiling.

Remus flusters, and she laughs.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Hi guysssss! Here we are - chapter 10! How exciting! Thanks to those who reviewed last time, hope you all enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"I was young, she was fierce," he says, staring at the ceiling.<p>

Harry is lying on the sofa opposite him in the drawing room, also staring upwards. There is a faint smile curving his lips, tinged with sadness.

"I'd be lying if I said it was love at first sight," Sirius says, fingering his whiskey glass absentmindedly. "It's what I told her though, but of course," he pauses to smirk, "she saw straight through me."

"Did you look after her?" Harry's voice is quiet. It's been quiet ever since the night of the battle. The events have somehow reduced him to a shadow of his former self. It won't last forever. He'll recover, and he'll do a better job of it than most people.

If Harry Potter is used to one thing, it is recovering.

"I tried. We moved in together after we left school. She got a job, I was working full time for Dumbledore..."

"Doing what?"

"The Order."

"Did you get married?"

Sirius pauses, and Harry twists on the sofa to look at him, his bright eyes curious.

"We thought we had forever."

They are quiet for a few minutes, and then Harry voices a question which Sirius can tell has been on his mind for a long long time.

"D'you think she ever considered saving my mum and dad? I mean...she must have been close to them if she was their bridesmaid..."

Sirius sighs deeply. "I think she thought about it everyday. But Dumbledore was always very firm about changing things. There are consequences to messing with time."

"They're not all bad though," Harry argues, his eyes still on the ceiling. "We saved you in third year, and Buckbeak, and Hermione saved you, you reckon. _And_, you saved Remus during the battle. He told me. What if you hadn't been there?"

Sirius doesn't like to think about such things. Thinking about them makes her death seem like a reasonable exchange of life.

He was at the battle, and he killed nine people. Perhaps the blonde kid would have ended up dead, were it not for the curse that Rodolphus had dodged. And if he hadn't saved Remus, who would have been there to keep Tonks out of harm's way while Sirius duelled Bella?

He wonders if Hermione knew the full extent of what she was doing. Knew that by taking that hit, she would set off a chain of events that would save the people she cared most about, one by one.

* * *

><p>They're making a go at being a proper family.<p>

Slowly, as the wizarding world gets back on its feet, so do Sirius and Harry.

It's not uncommon for Sirius to wander downstairs, on one of those nights where he can't get a wink of sleep because his head is filled with memories of her, to find Harry sitting at the kitchen table, his face chalky white, his eyes swirling with something that makes Sirius' stomach turn over. Harry brushes it off and tells Sirius that it's just a bad dream, but Sirius knows better. After what Harry's been through, bad dreams are a walk in the park - it's the memories that affect you the most.

It's probably not a good idea to get his godson into the habit of drinking Firewhiskey when he's finding it tough to cope with the world, but it seems rude for him to have a glass himself and not offer one to Harry, and so they sit in silence and drink as the sun begins to creep over the horizon.

Ginny is an angel of course. She spends half her time at Grimmauld Place these days, and Harry spends a sizeable portion of his own at the Burrow. Something about her presence helps Harry to heal. She knows when he wants to talk and when he doesn't, knows when to push him and when to not, and knows better than anyone when he wants to be left alone.

She's taken to checking up on Sirius as well, which he finds highly amusing. There is something very Molly-ish in her hawkish stare when he avoids answering her questions, and the way she raises her eyebrow when he assures her that he's been eating just fine makes him feel sorry for her future children. She's as fiery as her blazing red hair, and she's just what Harry needs.

In a way, it's almost like she and Harry are married already. She feels very much like he imagines a daughter in law would. He knows that even if they _were_ married it wouldn't _actually_ make her his daughter in law, but Harry is the closest thing he has to a son, so Ginny will be family as far as he's concerned, when eventually the two of them tie the knot.

* * *

><p>He has a small box of things that are special to him. Stored carefully in it are photographs, the cufflinks he wore to Lily and James' wedding (which Hermione had chosen), his graduation certificate, and hers, for that matter, are rolled up neatly at the bottom. There are notes, and he spends a bittersweet hour or so trying to decipher them.<p>

_KL?_

Kitchens later?

_SOTHT. WA? B? C?_

Sneaking out to Hogsmeade tonight. Want anything? Butterbeer? Chocolate?

_FMT. HR?_

Full moon tonight. How's Remus?

"What're you up to?"

Harry's voice jerks him out of his reverie, and he looks up. He's still not used to just how much the eighteen year old in front of him resembles James. Part of him hurts, every time he sees him, but another part of him is healed.

James isn't really gone. And nor is Lily.

"We used to write notes," Sirius says, gesturing to the scraps of parchment littered over the bedspread. "Used the first letter of each word so no one else could work it out. Of course, used to take us a while to work them out sometimes too, but we got there in the end."

Harry sits down on the edge of the bed, and moves his hand towards one of the pieces of parchment.

"Can I -?"

"Yeah."

He picks it up gently and looks at it closely.

"I'd almost forgotten what her writing looks like," he murmurs.

"Me too." He looks through the box for more notes, but then he comes across a square of thin paper with black print, almost faded. On one side is a small portion of advertisement spiel. Then he turns it over.

_PADFOOT._

_IMY. ILY. HPIS. SYS._

"Oh she was brilliant..." he whispers. Harry looks up from the note, distracted, and Sirius shows him the piece of paper.

"Where's it from?"

"_The Prophet_. The same issue that Ron and his family were in when they won that money. The same issue that Fudge gave to me because I told him I missed doing the crossword. How she remembered the date I don't know...but she was so _so_ brilliant."

"What does it say?" Harry asks, carefully taking the cutting from Sirius so he can look at it up close. He, like Sirius, seems to be trying to absorb her through the things she's touched, or done, because neither of them can quite cope with the reality that is her death.

"I miss you," Sirius says, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I _love_ you. HP, that's you, is safe. See you soon."

"And nobody guessed? Nobody realised she was trying to contact you?"

"I doubt the person in charge of the classifieds at the_ Prophet_ knew I was nicknamed Padfoot. And even if they'd been at Hogwarts the same time as me and overheard one of the others calling me it, they'd had more than twelve years to forget it."

"That's brilliant," Harry says, grinning. "She's a genius."

"She was," Sirius says. "She really was."

* * *

><p>"Silly wuss!"<p>

Remus snorts, stroking his son's hair, which today is half red and half yellow.

"You can call me Padfoot," Sirius tells the toddler.

Teddy folds his arms and shakes his head defiantly, his hair flopping all over the place. "Silly wuss."

Remus breaks into a fit of suppressed laughter, and Teddy looks between him and Sirius with a satisfied grin on his face. He's as pleased as punch, though Sirius is quite sure that Teddy hasn't the faintest clue as to _why_ his father is laughing so much.

"Why did we never think of that?" Remus asks at last, his lips still twisting as he tries to quell his giggles. "Silly wuss is a _much_ better name than Padfoot."

Sirius ignores him and sits back on the sofa, twiddling a lock of his hair around his finger. While he is happy for Remus, while he wishes him the best for everything in the whole wide world, his heart is searing with jealousy, and he finds it difficult to visit him these days.

He has a wife. Not only that, but he has a son.

He has a _proper_ family.

The difference in him is astonishing. Kingsley has given him a job at the Ministry, and his life has turned around completely. Nobody deserves it more than him, Sirius knows that, he _feels_ that. But it's difficult, when you've lost everything, when your godson is growing up and talking about moving in with his girlfriend, to not wish that you could have an ounce of what Remus has.

He often finds himself wondering what would have happened if he and Hermione had done a James and Lily, got married within a year of leaving school, had a child a year or two after that...

Maybe he would never have gone looking for Peter if he had a wife and child at home. Maybe the child would have been enough for him to start caring about what he still had left, rather than what he had lost.

He's grown up a lot since he lost Hermione, and it is clear to him, that what potentially could have been the best years of his life were spent rotting in a six foot square prison cell, with dementors sucking out every last happy memory of _her_.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **We are getting ever closer to that bit what I haven't quite wrote just yet, guvnors. I'm just giving you a few chapters warning, hahah. Thanks to the people who took the time to review the last chapter. It's mega mega appreciated. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>He opens the door to Zonko's and sinks into a deep bow, gesturing her inside. He's overly theatrical, but she'd gotten that idea from his older self. There was always a spark of drama about his emaciated figure in the first year she knew him, and when he was living back at Grimmauld Place, as he began to fill out his robes and his good looks started to return, there was something showmanship-like in his appearance, as though he was always getting ready to unveil a great surprise.<p>

Maybe this was the surprise. Maybe this was why he used to look faintly amused by her mere existence whenever they were at Grimmauld Place together.

"And this is the shelf where they keep the dung bombs..." he says, as though showing her a seventeenth century painting in a gallery. "And over here we have the fanged frisbees..."

He guides her over, his arm sneaking its way around her waist. She raises an eyebrow, and he pretends he doesn't notice, but judging by the upwards curve at the edges of his lips, he knows he's treading a very thin line.

Somehow, despite the cockiness, which is something she has never found attractive in _anyone_, she doesn't mind. He makes her laugh, and he makes her feel wanted, and she supposes that yes, she's most likely biased because she knows what a good man he will grow into, and she's most likely a little vulnerable after being displaced in time, but even so, the guided tour of Zonko's is much more fun than she had anticipated.

"Fancy a coffee?" Sirius asks as they step out into the blustery street.

"What, in Madam Puddifoot's?" Hermione replies, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"Well, yeah," Sirius says awkwardly, his hands dug deep in his pockets as he looks up at her from under his mop of wavy black hair.

Hermione shakes her head. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," she says.

His face brightens, and as he links his arm in hers, he leans over, his voice still audible above the whipping wind. "You are _definitely_ my kind of girl."

Hermione smirks, but says nothing.

* * *

><p>"Did you bully her into coming with you?" Lily demands as Hermione and Sirius sit down at her table.<p>

"_No_," Sirius replies, looking around. "Where's Prongs?"

"Oh last I knew he got into an argument with MacMillan over the Holyhead Harpies..." Lily sighs, raising her eyebrows at Hermione. "What have you been up to then?"

"I have been showing her the glorious sights of our local village!" Sirius says, before taking a sip of his Butterbeer.

"I wasn't asking _you_," Lily retorts. "She can speak for herself, can't she?"

"Yes, I _know_ that Lils, but -"

"Make yourself useful, go and find James."

Sirius stands with a frown but no argument, and disappears into the crowd of students to find his best friend.

"_Well?_" Lily asks in a conspiratorial tone, her emerald eyes sparkling with interest. "How was it, really?"

"Fun," Hermione replies honestly.

Lily's eyebrows raise a little in disbelief. "Has he tried anything?"

Hermione laughs and shakes her head. "I think he knows better than to do that. Besides, it's not _actually_ a date. Not _really_."

"You're a girl that he's spending free time with. Of _course_ it's a date."

"Not to me it isn't," Hermione says.

Lily smiles, as though Hermione has said something very naive and very endearing. She lifts her flagon of Butterbeer to her lips, and before taking a sip, says, "He'll reel you in, Hermione. He'll reel you in and he'll mess with your heart."

Hermione is already aware of this, and as Sirius and James plonk themselves down in their seats, and Sirius' arm works its way around her shoulders, she finds herself leaning in towards him. It's not because he's good looking, and not because he's charming and intelligent and all the rest of it. It's because he's going to mess with her heart so much she's going to die for him, and while she thinks about that, she finds herself desperately in need of a hug. His arm around her shoulders is the best she's got, and so she makes do with it for the rest of the evening.

* * *

><p>She has missed the library terribly, and whenever Madam Pince shoos her out at the end of the night, it is always with a great feeling of regret that she drags herself towards the door. It's barely changed in twenty years, and it is this cavernous room, cluttered with towering bookshelves and small oak tables, that really helps her to feel at home.<p>

"Are you doing your Potions homework?"

He has a habit of demanding her attention when she's focused on other things, and she wonders if it's insecurity. She finishes her sentence and looks up to see him sitting opposite her.

"Yes."

He must have looked for her for a good long while. She's at the quietest, most secluded table in the library, tucked away between a couple of the end bookshelves that hold the thick dusty volumes which chronicle the events of the goblin rebellions.

Nobody ever comes here.

"I just finished mine," he says, and for a moment he almost looks awkward. The moment passes however, and he takes a book out of his bag and slides it across the table. "This was really useful. Chapter fourteen especially."

"Thanks," she says, smiling and opening the book.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask," she replies, flicking through the pages until she finds the chapter. "But I can't promise I'll answer."

"That cut," he says, gesturing towards her cheek. "Will it ever heal properly?"

She forgets the book for a minute and looks at him. It's not what she had been expecting at all, and her fingers reach up to touch the gash in her face. It's shallower now than it was, but it's taking its sweet time in healing.

"I think so," she says, answering his question. "But it was dark magic, so you know...never can tell."

"Who were you duelling?"

_Bella_.

"No one you know," she says, avoiding his gaze by looking back at the book.

"Death eaters?" he asks. There is a hint of excitement in his tone, almost as though he's jealous that's she's been out there and done all that. Almost like he wants to give it a go himself.

He's got no idea. Technically he's only a few months younger than her, but it feels like the age gap is _years_. He's got no idea how many people she saw laying dead in the place where they dine every night, no idea that in twenty years this castle will be a wreck, and no idea how it feels to have to carry on fighting when you see a friend engulfed in a jet of green light.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I didn't realise - I - oh shit, please don't cry."

It's only now that she realises hot tears are trickling down her cheeks, and she wipes at them roughly with the cuff of her sleeve, catching her tender cheek at just the wrong place. She winces, and Sirius reaches out a hand, pulling her arm away from her face, before gently removing the tears with his thumb, careful to avoid the cut on her cheek.

"I'm really sorry."

She shakes her head, but doesn't dare to speak. The lump in her throat is so big that it's painful, and she knows her voice won't come out remotely normal. She takes a deep breath, digs the heels of her palms into her eyes and then pulls the book closer, trying to focus her attention on something that isn't the worst day of her life.

"If you want to talk about it we can go somewhere more quiet," he says softly, his grey eyes filled with remorse.

"More quiet than the library?" she asks, her voice thick, but intelligible nonetheless.

He looks relieved, glances down at his lap then says, "You know what I mean."

"I'm okay," she tells him. "I just...I hadn't thought about any of it until now. I've been trying not to."

"Can I ask you something though? About it?" he doesn't meet her eye, and Hermione knows it's a question he thinks is liable to upset her.

"I suppose..." she says slowly.

Sirius looks around briefly, as though checking for eavesdroppers, then leans forward.

"Have you ever...have you ever seen _him_?"

"Voldemort?" She's almost surprised by his question, and even more surprised by the way he half flinches when he hears the name.

"Yeah."

Hermione nods. "Yes. I have."

"What's he like?"

"He's evil," she says simply. "He's just evil."

His eyes widen a little and he lets out a deep breath. His hand travels automatically to his hair, separating the curls with a quick movement, almost like a dog scratching behind its ear. She smiles at this, and the tingling feeling in her skin begins to settle, as her eyes feel less prone to tears.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing."

"You're not scared to say the name?"

"No. And you shouldn't be either."

"But -"

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"But it sounds like we _should_ be scared of him."

"The name won't hurt you," she says firmly. "He might, but the name won't."

Sirius nods, though Hermione is sure it will be a long time before he starts saying the name of the man who will one day kill his best friend.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **If you are a who-ligan, read this because I'm about to do some shameless plugging: At some point today I will _hopefully_ upload a oneshot which relates to Saturday's episode. Haven't decided on a title but it features little Amelia, who I love more than anything in that whole series (except perhaps Matt's new coat - phwoar!) and even though I haven't quite finished it, I really rather like it. ANYWAY. Plug over, thanks to those who took the time to review the last chapter - it appears young Sirius is far more popular than adult Sirius (and rather more cheerful). Hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>She can feel his eyes burning into her. Professor McGonagall is talking about <em>something<em>, but all Hermione is aware of is the heat that accompanies his stare. She dips her quill in her ink and tries to take notes, but all that ends up on the page is a splash of ink, which has dripped down from her motionless quill.

It's unnerving, the way he looks at her, and she doesn't like it. She can't concentrate on her work while he does it and it's really important that this year, of all years, she puts one hundred and fifty percent into her studies. She's got exams after all.

It's nice to have to worry about exams again.

"Mr Black, as interesting as I'm sure Miss Granger _is_..."

The class titters softly, and when Hermione turns around, her cheeks pink, Sirius looks completely unabashed by the situation.

"Sorry Professor," he says, grinning smoothly, "I'll gaze lovingly at you, shall I?"

James' laughter echoes around the room much louder than the others, and Hermione can tell by Sirius' sideways glance to him that this is _all_ for his amusement.

McGonagall, either completely unperturbed by such cheekiness, or perhaps just used to it after six or so years of having to deal with him, gives Sirius a withering look.

"I would prefer," she says crisply, "If you would take some notes, Mr Black!"

"Spoilsport," Sirius murmurs, just loud enough for McGonagall to hear. Her thin lips raise slightly at the edges, in a ghost of a smile, and she returns to the lesson.

It's easier to concentrate now, and her notes are coming steadily, though her hand is still getting used to writing for six hours a day, every day, again.

Occasionally however, she'll feel the heat of his look, and her quill will pause while her mind becomes full of nonsense.

And then he looks away, and normal behaviour can resume once more.

* * *

><p>"How come you're only starting school now?" he asks, jabbing his wand towards the small fire Hermione has conjured in the Transfiguration classroom and increasing its intensity.<p>

"Home schooled," she says automatically. It is the answer she, Dumbledore and the Ministry have agreed on, and it is the answer that draws the fewest questions.

"So why aren't you still -" he stops mid-sentence, realising the answer he gets might not be a great conversation topic.

"My parents aren't dead, if that's what you're thinking," she says, smiling. "They moved to Australia, and I wanted to stay here."

It's technically true.

Well, possibly less technically and probably more partly.

"Oh, right," he says, smiling slightly. He's relieved, it's obvious in his expression. "Why didn't you want to go to Australia? Bet the weather's better. It's probably safer there too..."

"I get sunburned and I don't like to run."

"They ran? From...from _him_?"

Hermione hesitates, pulling at the thick wool of her tights. "He would have found them."

"He was after them?"

She skews her lips. Trying to meld the future with the past is tricky business, but it's easier to alter the truth than to lie outright. Lies are so hard to keep track of.

"It's complicated," she says at last.

"Is he after you?"

"Probably one day," she says. Peter will know eventually, he's not so stupid he can't work it out, and then he'll tell Voldemort and then...and then she'll die at Bella's hand.

It's not much of a life plan, but at least she knows what's ahead.

"You're okay with that? That he wants to kill you?" Sirius is almost in awe of her, and she laughs. It's unintentional, but one day, when he knows everything, he'll know exactly why his questions amuse her.

One day, he's going to be the first person to escape from Azkaban, he's going to be a convicted murderer, but right now, he's asking her if she's _scared_. It doesn't work in her head. It feels all out of place. _She's_ all out of place, and sometimes it strikes her how bizarre her situation is, and all she can do is laugh.

Other times, she wants to cry, but she prefers to laugh. It's easier to explain away.

"I don't see what's so funny," he says darkly.

"He's got bigger priorities than me. Trust me."

"But why are you even on his _list_?"

Hermione sighs, her amusement fading quickly. "You'll understand eventually, but for now, there's nothing to worry about."

He looks a little put out by this, almost like a child being told that they'll understand when they're a grown up. She'll have to tell him one day, but she's not sure she wants to do it before Lily and James...go...but she supposes she'll have to. She'll have to tell Remus as well. She doesn't remember him swearing loudly on the train when he first saw her after the dementor attack in third year, so he must have known.

"How much have you seen?" he asks, his fingertip scratching at the arm of the sofa he conjured when they had first arrived in the empty classroom. "I only ask because...well, we've only ever heard rumours."

"Enough," she says. "I've seen enough."

She looks up to the clock on the wall and sees it's nearing ten o'clock. Sirius follows her gaze and sighs.

"Back to the common room?"

Hermione nods.

"They'll talk you know." A shadow of his cocky smirk has returned to his features, as he vanishes the fire and the sofa with a wave of his wand while Hermione returns the desks to their original positions.

"Worse things have happened," she replies, picking up her bag and heading towards the door. "Come on."

He follows her, and the feeling of him walking alongside her is something she knows she will get used to, and gradually adore.

* * *

><p>"Do you actually like him then?" Lily asks late one night, her chin resting on her arms as she lays at the foot of her bed, watching Hermione's reactions carefully.<p>

"I..." she doesn't really know what to say. "Well of course I _like_ him. He's been very good to me."

Lily raises an eyebrow.

"Don't be like that," Hermione replies quietly. "Nothing's happened."

"Really?" Lily sounds genuinely surprised at this statement. "Not one kiss?"

Hermione shakes her head.

"Blimey, he's taking it slow. He must really like you."

"He's curious more than anything else," she traces her fingers over the stitching at the edge of her bedspread and looks up at Lily, whose emerald eyes pierce her just as intensely as Dumbledore's blue ones.

"Curious about what?" Lily's tone is suspicious, as though she thinks Sirius is not to be trusted, and any curiosity is an elaborate façade simply concealing his desire to cop a feel.

"Me," Hermione says simply. "How I got this," she gestures to the cut on her face, and Lily's eyes flick towards it and away again. She always tries to avoid looking at it, Hermione's noticed. The others are more than happy to stare, but Lily is kinder than that.

"If you told him the whole story after you wouldn't tell me I'm going to be very cross," Lily says.

Hermione laughs. "No. I was just as vague with him, don't get jealous."

"Good," Lily says, plumping up her pillows. "Because I _hate it_ when he knows more than me."

Hermione laughs again, but all she can really think about is how much she'll miss Lily when she's gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Chapter 13! Unlucky for some! Also a +44 song if I remember my little punk rocker years correctly. But enough about that. Thanks to the people who took the time to review the last chapter, hope you guys enjoy this one too!

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>She has done a fairly good job of avoiding the Slytherins until now. Their Potions class is so small however that it is impossible to avoid <em>him<em>.

He looks just as she imagined he would, and the only real difference from his older self is that he's skinnier, paler, and looks more bitter and angry. The adult Snape always seemed to be in greater control of his emotions.

She feels Lily stiffen next to her when Snape looks over, and there is something in his expression that is unfamiliar to Hermione. There is something she has never seen before in those bottomless black eyes of his. But then Slughorn belches loudly and he looks away, returning his attention to his work.

Hermione glances at Lily, who seems far too focused on cutting her mandrake leaves into exactly equal pieces.

She looks around the dungeon, and sees James whispering to Sirius, his eyes fixed on the back of Snape's greasy head. When Sirius sees her looking, he smiles, and Hermione's hand moves towards her locket.

It has become habit by now. His adult voice still echoes in her head from time to time.

_Find me. I'll look after you. I promise._

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione nearly jumps out of her skin. Professor Slughorn is standing in front of her cauldron, his hands resting on his round belly as he peers at her over his spectacles.

"Everything all right my dear?"

All of the teachers speak to her the same. All with the kind of tone that one might use at the bedside of a terminally ill person. They think she's delicate, but in reality she's much tougher than most of them will ever know.

McGonagall is the only one who treats her just the same as the others, though from time to time she catches a concerned glance in the witch's eyes, and wonders how much Dumbledore has let her in on.

"Fine," Hermione says at last, clearing her throat with a small cough. "Fine thank you, Professor."

"Very good, very good, now don't forget to add your beetle wings!"

She nods, and pulls the wings towards her, dropping them into her stone dish and grinding them into a fine black dust with her pestle.

"Boys, you can chat at break, we've only got fifteen minutes left now, chop chop!"

Hermione empties her beetle wings into her cauldron and stirs, her gaze set not on the progress of her potion, but on Snape, his head bowed low over the instructions with his dark hair hanging down like a grimy curtain. He's scribbling notes in the margins of his book, and Hermione has to resist the urge to yank it from his hands.

Harry's going to cause a lot trouble with that book one day.

* * *

><p>"How are you adjusting?"<p>

She shifts in her seat. Harry has always been the one to take the brunt of Dumbledore's penetrating stare. She's used to being the sidekick. Not even that.

"Good, I suppose."

Dumbledore nods, his hands clasped together. "I see you've become friends with Mr Black."

"_Yes_." She can't help it. Her tone comes out as defensive. She doesn't like the quiet way he's speaking to her, as though he's passively accusing her of something. As though he's assuming she's messing up already.

"You haven't told -"

"_No_."

"Forgive me," Dumbledore says, smiling. "This is a very unusual situation for me."

"I can't say it's an everyday occurrence for me either, Professor." She tries harder to keep her tone even this time, but it's difficult. She's supposed to be at dinner with the others, but she's in Dumbledore's office, and if he has an actual point, then he hasn't got anywhere close to it as of yet.

Dumbledore's lips curve into a faintly amused smile, but it vanishes rather quickly.

"I realise of course, that you have been through some traumatic events. If you should feel the need to discuss these matters, rest assured you can confide in both Professor McGonagall and myself."

"But," she begins slowly, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "That would involve telling you about the future. And how could you then not act on it?"

"With a great amount of will power," he sighs. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"So if I told you the ways you could prevent all of the terrible things in the future from happening, you'd choose not to act?"

"The law is very firm, Miss Granger."

"When have you given a damn about the law?" Her temper is rising, along with her voice. He was quite happy to break the law to save Sirius and Buckbeak in her third year, but he won't save the lives of hundreds of people? He won't stop Voldemort in his tracks?

"Terrible things happen when one messes with time, Miss Granger. We did explain when you arrived -"

"There is _nothing_ more terrible than what I've seen," she stands suddenly, her body working independently of her mind. And then her mouth joins in too, and the words have already been said before her brain can even think to stop them. "But I suppose it's all for the _greater good_, isn't it?"

There is a flash in Dumbledore's eyes that she has never seen before. She doesn't like it, and before he can say another word, she has run from the office, her feet skittering down the spiral staircase, along the corridor, and head first into something solid.

"Hey," he says, his arms grabbing her before she topples over after the impact. "What's wrong?"

"Sirius," she whispers, just about making out his features through her tear blurred vision.

She throws her arms around his neck and holds onto him for dear life, his arms wrapping around her in response.

"What happened? Lils said you'd gone to see Dumbledore but you weren't back for dinner so I - I..." he trails off, probably knowing that he won't get much sense out of her. She's crying freely now, whether because she's shocked herself with her reaction to Dumbledore, or because all that meeting did was remind her of how much she doesn't belong, how much she has to fear of the future, or because it seems as though the man she has put her faith in for seven years, the man upon whose instructions she has risked her life, her sanity, and her family, has turned out to be no better than Fudge, content to let events unfold and act too late.

"Come on," he says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the nearest empty classroom. Once inside he conjures the usual sofa and fire, and they sit down, him with his arm around her, holding her close to his side, while his free hand strokes her hair.

Her mind is on Harry and Ron, and everybody she has left behind.

She will never see them again. She'll die before she can reveal herself, but that's okay.

At least she doesn't have to worry about living through the second war again.

She has the first to tackle though, and that's going to be harder than the second she's sure. As difficult as it was, hunting down horcruxes, breaking into Gringotts and being tortured by Bellatrix, it will be nothing compared to allowing Lily and James to walk into death after putting their lives in the hands of the wrong friend. She knows she can't change that, knows that without that moment Voldemort might never be defeated. Harry has to be chosen. It is the only hope they have.

And besides, she's far too scared to do anything without Dumbledore's approval. He's older and wiser and much more callous, but he's probably right.

"Tell me," Sirius says at last. "Tell me everything."

Everything is out of the question. He gets most things though, and Hermione talks until her mouth is dry and her voice is hoarse. Sirius listens, and she tells him about the last year of her life, leaving out the specifics. It's only when she gets onto Malfoy Manor that he reacts.

"The Cruciatus Curse?" his voice is steady but dark, and he's stopped stroking her hair. "They used it on you?"

"Yeah, but we escaped so -"

"And you were seventeen?"

"Eighteen."

"They tortured an eighteen year old girl?"

"They've done worse," she whispers.

"So the future's shit?" he says after a long moment.

"Pretty much."

"I look forward to it." There is a challenging edge to his voice, as though he wants to try and prove the future wrong, but Hermione just holds him tighter, knowing that Sirius has nothing to look forward to except heartache and misery.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **So it turns out internet at my flat will take up to two weeks to get connected. This is inconvenient, for me, because I can't perve over Matt Smith on the iplayer whenever I get bored, and for you, because updates will stop for a bit. However, it means I'll probably get lots of writing done, if I'm not too busy enjoying the lovely Rob on the Great British Bake Off. He's hot _and_ he bakes. Yum yum. Anyway, tv crushes aside, this will be it for a week or two. Thanks to the two of you who reviewed the last chapter (and special thanks because both of you have reviewed _every_ chapter). Nice to know people are still reading. =]

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan. **

* * *

><p>He stays close to her now. All the time, like he thinks she might break at any minute.<p>

Maybe he thinks he can protect her from the things that have already happened.

Either way, it's endearing.

"Merlin, he's sticking to you like a wartcap plaster, isn't he?" Lily says, raking her fingers through her dark red hair and checking her reflection in the mirror of the girls' bathroom. "Don't you get sick of it?"

"Not really," Hermione replies quietly, her arms folded, her eyes focused on the cracked floor tiles. "I don't feel lonely when he's around."

Lily turns her attention away from the mirror and onto Hermione. "You mean to say you feel lonely when he's not?"

"I..." she trails off, not knowing what to say. She spends a good portion of her time with Lily, and it's not that she feels lonely when she's with her, it's that she feels _alone_. There is a difference, in her mind at least. Lily has no idea what she's been through, no idea that Hermione's brain is heavy with the knowledge of what's to come. Sirius knows, however, and Sirius looks after her in a way that Lily never could.

Sirius is keeping his promise.

"Did you tell him where you got that?" Lily nods towards her cheek and Hermione inspects it in the mirror. It's finally knitted together, and is now just a tender pink scar marring a good four inches of her face.

She hates it. It'll probably be with her forever. She was never that pretty anyway, but now...now she feels ugly. And she's never felt like that before.

As though she can read her mind, Lily says, "At least it's healed up a bit now. You might be able to put a Concealing Charm on it if it doesn't fade completely."

"Tried it," Hermione whispers. "I even tried a Disillusionment Charm on it."

Lily sighs, her green eyes filled with sadness. "Maybe some muggle make up, if it really bothers you?"

Hermione shakes her head. It'd be too obvious, and she can't hide it properly she'd rather not do it at all.

"Well Sirius doesn't care about it, clearly," Lily says briskly. "And I think you'll get used to it in time. It doesn't look half as bad as you think."

Hermione watches as a fourth year Ravenclaw leaves the bathroom, the door slamming behind her.

They're alone.

"I'm from the future, Lily."

Lily laughs nervously. "What?"

"I'm not mad. And I'm not joking. Why d'you think I gave Sirius a chance?"

"Because he's good looking and charming and you're vulnerable?"

"He's going to be a really good man one day. _I know._ And I know we're together until...well...until the end. That's why."

"The end?" Lily's face is even paler than usual, and Hermione almost regrets telling her anything at all. But Lily _needs_ to know.

When Hermione says nothing, Lily continues. "So all those injuries...you got those in the future?"

She nods.

"From...from You-Know-Who? He's still around in the future?"

"He goes away," she says, "But he comes back again. Worse than ever."

"Shit."

It's the first time she's ever heard Lily swear, and Lily sags against the wall, her hand clutching her hair.

"Dumbledore knows?" she asks.

"Of course."

"And Sirius too?"

"Yeah."

There is a squeak and a bang as the door to the bathroom swings open and hits the adjacent wall. A Slytherin girl with dark eyes and a permanent scowl stalks in, regards the two of them suspiciously and enters one of the cubicles.

"Come on," Lily says. "Dinner."

When they arrive at the Great Hall, Sirius pushes Peter along the bench, and gestures for Hermione to sit down. She closes her eyes and takes the seat, trying to ignore the sound of Peter's laboured, slightly asthmatic breathing.

"You all right?" Sirius asks, pouring some pumpkin juice into her goblet.

"Fine," she lies, looking at the various dishes on offer and trying to decide what to have. She's not hungry at all, and her stomach feels tight and small. If she has to eat, she'd like to have some of the cod a little way up the table on the right, but that would involve asking Peter to pass it to her, and she has avoided talking to him as best she can. She doesn't trust herself to not curse him into a million pieces.

Instead she has pasta, and when she sets her fork down after a few hard going mouthfuls, Sirius arches one dark eyebrow in a way that looks far too mature for his young face.

"What's the matter?"

"Not hungry," Hermione shrugs.

"You're sitting weirdly," he says, ignoring her excuse. "You're stiff as a board." He prods her back gently with his index finger and she steadies herself with her elbow against the table, wanting nothing less than to accidentally brush against Peter. The sound of him eating makes her feel just as sick as the sight of him does.

* * *

><p>"I know about Remus by the way," she says as they dawdle down the corridor late at night. "So you can stop talking about it all in code."<p>

"It doesn't bother you?" Sirius asks, stopping and turning to face her.

"Of course not," she says softly. "D'you really think I'm that sort of person?"

"It's not an _unreasonable_ viewpoint," Sirius says awkwardly, his eyes looking towards the arched ceiling. "I mean, I know he's my mate and everything and _I _don't care, but you can't expect everyone to be happy about being so close to him, with the way he is."

"Dumbledore wouldn't have let him come here if he was a risk to anyone."

"True," Sirius says as they start walking again.

"Besides," she says, her tone more matter-of-fact than it's been for a long time. She's starting to feel more like her old self again. "I know him. Where I'm from. He's a friend."

"Really?" Sirius sounds surprised. "And what about me? Am _I_ a friend?"

Hermione smirks and says nothing, but Sirius' hand finds hers, and she allows him to interlace their fingers.

"Is it Peter?" he asks after a few minutes of quiet, aimless walking.

"Is what Peter?" she asks, panicked. She has to fight to keep her voice level, but Sirius seems too caught up in his thoughts to notice.

"You don't talk to him. You don't even _look_ at him. I just wondered if you didn't like him."

"He's not my friend. Remus is, and you are..."

"And James and Lily?"

She can't lie to him.

But she can't very well tell him the truth.

"Promise you won't tell?" she asks, biting her lip.

"Promise," he says, his expression serious.

"They're my best friend's parents."

Sirius stares at her for a good long while before reacting. Then he laughs loudly, whoops, and lifts Hermione up into the air and spins her around.

"Shush!" she says, trying to place a hand over his mouth as he continues to make noise in the darkened corridor. "You know Filch'll try and use any excuse to put us in detention!"

"This is brilliant! I can't believe it!" he babbles. "Lily and James!"

"Be quiet!" Hermione says, dragging him into Professor McGonagall's deserted classroom. It'll be bad enough if Filch hears them making noise this close to curfew, but if anyone hears that Lily and James are going to get married and have a _child_ before the two of them have even considered such things...she'll be knee deep in trouble, that's for sure.

"And what about me and you?" he asks, calming down slightly now, though his face is still split by a gleaming, joyous smile. When she doesn't answer straight away, it fades, and slowly turns into a look of concern. The forehead lines she knows so well on his older face form with his frown, and it makes her breath catch in her chest, because he looks so much like the Sirius she _knew_.

"Hermione..."

"It's complicated," she tells him. "What with my situation."

"But we're together, right?"

She doesn't know what to tell him, and so she settles on what she told Lily.

"We're together until the end."

"The end?"

She nods.

"What does that mean?"

She doesn't say anything. She finds it difficult to meet his eye. She's going to die for him eventually, and she can't even look at him.

"If I could tell you everything I would," she whispers. "But I can't. You know I can't. I've told you far too much already. If Dumbledore knew..."

"You deserve to be happy, after everything you've been through," he says softly, moving close to her. He runs his thumb over her scar and shivers. It doesn't hurt when he touches it, but she doesn't like him looking at it.

"Don't," she says, pulling his hand away. "Don't look at it."

"Why? Because it shows how brave you are? Because it shows you stand up for what's right? Because -"

"Because it's _ugly_."

His eyes flash, his lips press together into a thin line, and he cups her face firmly.

"You listen to me," he says, a slight growl in his voice, reminding her even more forcefully of the broken man he will one day become. "You are _beautiful_. Do you understand?"

She bites her lip. She understands what he's saying but she doesn't believe it for a second.

And then she sees the way he's looking at her, and she knows exactly why she'll wait for him. She knows exactly why she's going to fall even further than she already has. She knows exactly why she'll lay down her life for him.

All he sees is her, and he's closer than ever. She lets her eyelids flicker shut.

The curfew passes unnoticed.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Wow! The wifi gods are smiling upon me today! Just got to my flat about half an hour ago, decided to plug my router in to check on the off chance that it had all been set up, then my iphone automatically connects to the network, then I run to get the laptop and that's working too! Happy doesn't even cover it. Gah! Anyway, latest chapter here, this is the last one until chapter 21 that's properly written, so updates will probably slow down a fair bit. Thanks to those who reviewed last time, hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>Her scar is now a thin silver line, only really noticeable when the light catches it. She tilts her head as she stares at her reflection in the window, trying to see it at its best and its worst.<p>

"Almost gone," he says, putting his arms around her from behind and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Come on," she says, tearing her eyes away from the window. She likes to see how they look together. Likes to see what other people see.

"Library?" he groans.

"_Yes_," she says firmly. "We have NEWTs, we need to revise!"

"But -"

"James is there already," she says, knowing this will quell his arguments. It's a lie, sort of. Lily was going to 'fetch James' and bring him to the library, and Hermione's not sure it's the same thing as James voluntarily turning up because he values his education.

Sirius takes her hand and leads her up the staircase. They come to a halt however, when they are faced with four sets of black robes.

"What do _you_ want, Snivellus?"

Hermione groans inwardly. It was bad enough whenever Snape was visiting headquarters, she doesn't want to see what the two of them are like as teenagers, pumped up with hormones and an extra helping of immaturity.

It doesn't help that the boy next to Snape has a nasty, twisted little face.

Dolohov.

The boy on Dolohov's left has a face that is littered with acne. The scars will never leave him.

Rookwood.

The boy on the end is vaguely familiar, but she cannot put a name to his face. Sirius looks at him with disgust.

"Regulus, go back to your common room. It's past your curfew."

"Like I give a damn about _that_," Regulus spits.

"We thought it was high time you learned a lesson, Black," Snape says silkily, "After what you and Potter did to McNair last week."

"McNair had it coming," Sirius growls, his hand sliding from Hermione's and into the pocket of his robes.

Her heart is racing, and she can feel goosebumps popping up all over her skin. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want to do any more fighting. Not in this castle, not in the castle that her friends are going to die protecting. Her head starts to spin as the argument escalates, and she wonders why Filch hasn't come running towards the commotion.

Snape and his entourage draw their wands. Sirius pushes her to the ground, his eyes lingering on her, knowing something is wrong, but he can't do anything, he's fighting four of them at once. There is a glint of excitement in Snape's dark eyes, and she can almost see it coming.

Her hand finds her wand, and her mouth finds the words, and Snape is blasted backwards into the wall with such force that he doesn't get up. The curse that was intended for Sirius hits a suit of armour, slicing it clean in half.

Everybody stops as it clatters to the floor.

"You think you're tough?" she says, her eyes prickling as she staggers to her feet. "You think you're tough because you're going to join a murderer when you leave school? You think it makes you _admirable_? He'll kill you _all_ eventually. He doesn't care about _anyone_. He will use you as much as he can, and then he'll get rid of you, just like he gets rid of everyone else," her voice is shaking, but she doesn't care. Regulus is watching her, his grey eyes wide. "You're _nothing_ to him, but you're going to delude yourselves into thinking your loyalty will get you somewhere. It will only get you a shallow grave, you mark my words."

She feels dizzier than ever, and all she can see inside her head is Nagini, lunging at Snape time and time and time again. All of this, it's all leading him to there - to a pool of blood in the Shrieking Shack, and a pitiless glance from those awful scarlet eyes.

The blackness starts at her feet and works its way up before swallowing her whole.

She realises it's probably a panic attack, but before she can whisper for Sirius to catch her, she's gone.

* * *

><p>She has seen this ceiling before.<p>

"Morning," says a quiet, slightly amused voice.

She tilts her head and the first thing she notices is that it hurts. The second thing she notices is that Remus is sitting by her bedside, while Sirius snores in a chair next to him.

"You had quite a fall," he says, rubbing tiredly at the side of his face. "A whole flight of stairs. Madam Pomfrey almost had a fit."

She groans, because there's not much else she can do. And then, when she notices the blood stains on Sirius' robes, she groans again. Remus follows her eye line and smiles grimly.

"Half of that's yours," he says. "The rest is Rookwood's and Dolohov's. You can imagine how he reacted after you fell. He thinks one of them sent a Tripping Jinx at you."

"No," she says hoarsely. "It was just a panic attack."

"Sounds like you gave Snape what for though," Remus adds.

"I think she should have panic attacks more often!"

The curtain around her bed is pulled aside and James is there, grinning broadly, his jet black hair standing up in every possible direction. Lily hits him in the side and gives him a look that quietens him instantly.

"We brought you some toast," she says. "Thought you could do with a decent breakfast before Madam Pomfrey starts up."

"What time is it?" Hermione asks, shifting up in her bed.

"Six thirty," James tells her, after a glance at his gleaming gold wristwatch.

"Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

Lily passes her the toast and ignores her question. "What happened? All we could get out of Sirius last night was that the Slytherins attacked the pair of you. Madam Pomfrey had to give him a sleeping potion in the end, because he wouldn't settle down."

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione sighs, before taking a bite of her toast.

"He's been out since about ten o'clock last night. Pretty heavy dose I think." James can't help but look like he's enjoying the situation.

"And what about Snape?"

"Sirius was trying to get Dumbledore to expel the lot of them," Lily says quietly, her eyes flicking over to the other side of the room momentarily. Hermione follows her gaze and sees a mass of greasy black hair, half covered by bandages.

"Rookwood and Dolohov are in detention every day for the next three weeks. Snape's going to be dealt with by Dumbledore personally -"

"What does that mean?" she interrupts, and Remus shrugs, and continues.

"They examined the wands though," he says, frowning a little as he speaks, "Rookwood _did _cast a Tripping Jinx at you. Maybe you just didn't notice because of the panic -"

"It didn't hit me," she says. "It didn't even touch me."

"Well let's not tell Dumbledore that, eh?" James says, leaning forward and patting her gently on the arm. "With any luck Rookwood'll be out on his arse with Snape."

"What about Regulus?"

"Regulus was there?" Lily's eyebrows draw together suspiciously, her green eyes, so like Harry's, looking puzzled.

Hermione nods, finishes off her toast and puts the plate on the bedside cabinet.

"Sirius didn't say anything about him..."

"Yeah, well, he _is _his brother," James reasons.

"But he _hates_ him James. Nearly as much as he hates Sev."

"Don't call him _Sev_," James says wearily to Lily, "You almost make him sound human."

"He _is_," she says exasperatedly. "As rotten as he is, he's still human. He's got a tough home life -"

"So does Sirius!" James argues, getting to his feet as though he thinks this is matter that can be settled by height alone. "Sirius' family have bloody well disowned him, but does he go round cursing people?"

"_Sev._"

"Sirius didn't start that," James says darkly. "Did he Hermione?"

She turns to Lily apologetically. "It _was_ Snape. Sirius and I were walking to the library and they just blocked our way. We hadn't even seen them before then."

"Makes you wonder why he didn't say anything about Regulus though," Lily says, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Leave Regulus. He didn't really do anything," Hermione tells her. She wonders if her babbled speech from the night before will have any impact on his decisions in the future. Either way, he's going to be brave in the end, and she doesn't want the short life span he does have to be filled with detentions.

The door to Madam Pomfrey's office opens, and the colour drains from James' face.

"_What_ are you all _doing_ here at this hour?" she shrieks. "This girl needs rest, not a party! Out! Lily, I would have expected better of you!"

"Sorry Madam Pomfrey," Lily says, in her most innocent of voices. "But we were all so worried, we couldn't sleep at all! She was already awake when we got here, we didn't disturb her."

Madam Pomfrey looks at her appraisingly, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed.

"Two visitors to a bed only," she says sternly. "You know the rules!"

"Technically," James says, pasting his winning smile on his face, "Sirius isn't a visitor. He's a patient. And I'm his visitor."

"Mr Potter, I warn you, pushing my patience at this hour will not end well."

"Please let us stay," Lily pleads, "She's going to be alone all day while we're in lessons, she needs a bit of company, she'll go mad otherwise."

"Very well," she sighs. "But I expect you to keep these boys in check, all right Lily?"

"You can count on me, Madam Pomfrey," Lily says with a smile. As she turns back to Hermione, the smile transforms into a smirk, her eyes glittering with victory.

Lovely Lily is apparently a little more devious than everyone remembers.

Hermione finds herself smirking too.

"I love you," James whispers. "Properly bloody well love you."

Lily shushes him as Madam Pomfrey approaches with a tray full of potions and bandages. There is an unspoken agreement to let her work in silence, broken only by Sirius' gentle snores.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **I've been stuck on this chapter for aaaaages. Then as soon as I have to paint my flat, miraculously I am able to write it. Strange how the world works, isn't it? Anyway, hope you enjoy this one, thanks to those who reviewed last time. You're super people. Now I'm actually going to do some painting. Not going to watch Takeshi's Castle and eat peppermint cupcakes. No way.

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>"Another name for Asphodel?" Lily asks, her book open in her lap.<p>

"Royal Staff," Sirius says lazily, "Next!"

Something stirs within her memory, and she thinks of crossword puzzles and Grimmauld Place.

"Oh no..." Peter says, scribbling notes furiously onto his parchment. "I'm never going to remember all this."

"Yes you will," Lily says kindly. James glances at Sirius, who smirks. It's clear neither of them expect Peter to come out with more than a couple of Acceptables in Charms and Herbology, but they say nothing. James surreptitiously turns the page of _Quidditch Weekly_ while Lily is distracted helping Peter, and Sirius conjures a fleet of paper aeroplanes, then sends them shooting towards a group of first years.

"Sirius!" Lily glares at him, then looks over to where the first years are cowering. "Ignore him, he won't hurt you, and he'll be gone by the end of the year."

"Do we have to write down all the names of everything if we're talking about them?" Peter asks, beads of sweat trailing down the sides of his face. "Because I know monkshood's got about fifty names and I'm never going to -"

"Wormtail, get a grip. They don't want to read more names than there are actual words. But _if_ they ask you _'what is another name for monkshood?'_ then you tell them aconite or wolfsbane. You don't list every single name for an ingredient when they don't ask you to." Sirius rolls his eyes and Peter continues to scribble onto his parchment.

"How do you spell aconite?"

"Oh for Merlin's -"

"_A_," Remus says sharply, his tone causing Sirius to stop talking with a huff.

James is sniggering from his spot on the floor by the fireplace, and when Lily looks over, he thrusts his edition of _Quidditch Weekly_ under the nearest armchair and smiles pleasantly at her.

"You two had better come out with all Outstandings," Lily says, jabbing a finger towards James and Sirius. "Or I'm never going to let you forget how cocky you were."

"Us? Cocky?" Sirius says, forgetting his irritableness and feigning shock. "How very dare you, Evans? We are modest and sweet and -"

"Cocky?"

"It's not the word I'd choose," Remus says quietly.

It's Lily's turn to snigger now, and James looks far more stung than Sirius, who settles himself back in his seat and puts his feet up on the coffee table.

* * *

><p>If she's being honest, as frazzled as she is, she feels happier than she has done for a long time. There is something about important exams that brings out the very essence of her, her determination, her organisation, and her short temper, too, admittedly.<p>

All of them have noticed the change in her, she can tell. They're teasing a lot more, because apparently they were more terrified of her bursting into tears and having a panic attack than they are of her 'pulling a Granger'.

The phrase has become somewhat fashionable, since the incident on the staircase, and every time Snape hears it, his shoulders tense and his face twists into an ugly, humiliated expression.

Part of her wants to tell him she's a mudblood, just to rub salt in the wound, but she knows it would raise too many questions. After all, how can a muggleborn witch be homeschooled?

It is best, and this goes for most situations now she is stuck in the past, that she keeps her head down and her mouth shut. This is especially important in her lessons, and she can't remember ever taking so many notes in her entire life.

Sirius doesn't share her feelings when it comes to their final few weeks of lessons however, and she is constantly having to elbow him in the side when he starts whispering to her while Professor Vector is explaining a particularly complex formula.

"Come into Hogsmeade with us tonight," he says, his warm breath catching her ear and causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. "It's not a full moon, we're just going for fun."

She ignores him, and copies down the number sequence that has just appeared on the blackboard with one wave of Professor Vector's wand.

He sighs and rips off a corner of his parchment. A few seconds later he slides it into her line of sight. She glances up at it briefly.

_IBF._

She can't control her curiosity enough to keep herself from trying to work it out.

_It'll be fun._

She wonders briefly what the code protocol for contractions ought to be, but then Professor Vector starts firing questions at each of them, and she cannot afford to give Sirius any of her attention.

He takes the parchment and scribbles a single letter underneath the previous three, before placing it just above her notes, next to her ink bottle.

_P?_

She almost laughs.

_Please?_

"Professor, are they _really_ going to ask us all this?" James whines, running a hand through his hair and messing it up absentmindedly. A couple of Hufflepuff girls sitting in the corner turn to each other and smile, but James is quite oblivious.

"Potter, we don't know _what_ they're going to ask you, so just listen, all right?" Professor Vector seems to be just as stressed as the rest of them. Hermione still gets a shock when she sees how young she is. Her face is less lined than in Hermione's memory, her hair softer and her face kinder. Twenty years of teaching ages people terribly, that much is obvious.

She takes James' distraction and uses it to her advantage. Grabbing the scrap of parchment, she scribbles something down quickly and pushes it towards him.

_IYCOLTIWSNTLNL._

He takes one look at it, shakes his head and screws it up.

She laughs.

They need a better code.

* * *

><p>"<em>What<em>?" he asks as they leave the lesson.

"If you carry on like this," she says slowly, dodgy a hulking sixth year who seems to be unaware of the amount of first years he's flattened in the last twenty seconds, "Then I will sit next to Lily next lesson."

Sirius huffs. "The code wasn't made for _essays_."

"Well maybe if you applied a little time and logic, you would have been able to work it out..."

"Oooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the dormitory," he says, before shooting a filthy look at one of the Slytherin chasers. He takes her hand anyway, despite his sulk, and skulks along next to her.

"Did you see Faircrow?" James asks, catching up to them shortly after, "Just tried to trip me and ended up face diving the floor."

"Really?" Sirius asks excitedly, before turning back to Hermione. "You see what we missed because you want to get to the library? That would have been brilliant!"

"It wasn't brilliant," Lily says. "It was pathetic. And seeing as how Professor Vector's lesson was so difficult for you to get your head around, James, you ought to come to the library with us."

"I've _told you_," James says slowly. "I have to go to quidditch practise. They can't practise without a Captain, _and_ we've got the final next Saturday. We need to win, but not by too much, otherwise we'll knock Hufflepuff down to third and Slytherin will be in second, and we can't have that."

"Oh James," Hermione sighs. "Just focus on winning, don't start worrying about that kind of stuff. It doesn't matter where Slytherin end up, just as long as you lift the trophy."

"Yeah, but I want it to hurt as much as possible. My last year and all that, need to go out in style."

When Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head, Hermione lets the issue drop.

After all, boys will_ always_ be boys.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **At last! This chapter and the next one have been utter scoundrels. It's been a roller coaster week - the Doctor was wearing his gorgeous new coat last Saturday, my gorgeous fella got kicked out of the Bake Off on Tuesday (still angry, but it's okay, he's got a twitter), I finished painting my lounge and I learned to make bread. Amazing what you can get done when avoiding writing, isn't it? Anyway, hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter - let me know if you do. I need cheering up now there's going to be no more Rob on Tuesday evenings. Siiiigh.

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>"Stop <em>worrying<em>," Sirius says as they climb the stairs towards the common room.

Hermione ignores him. "What did you put for thirteen b?" she asks Lily.

"I didn't even _answer_ thirteen b," Peter wails.

"Why not?" James asks. "It was easy!"

The back of Lily's hand connects sharply with James' stomach and he falls silent.

"I've never even _heard_ of a Bubblehead Charm!" Peter says. "What does it even _do_?"

"It's too late to worry about it now," says Remus. "Let's just dump our bags and go and get some lunch."

"Lunch?" Lily says. "_Lunch_? We have to revise for Potions!"

"We can revise _and_ eat if you really want," Sirius says. "I'm not going to the library, no way. If I spend any more time in there Madam Pince'll think I've got the hots for her."

James makes a noise of disgust. "Can you _imagine_?"

"I don't want to," Sirius says with a shudder.

* * *

><p>As much as Lily pretends she doesn't care for quidditch, it's quite apparent by her screaming and shouting that she cares a great deal for it.<p>

It's also quite apparent how proud she is of James, and how pleased she is that he's hers.

She's clutching the handle of her Gryffindor flag so tightly that her knuckles are popping white under the skin.

"Go on!" she yells, "Go!"

James is focused, the wind rippling through his hair, giving the effect that he never quite manages to achieve with his hand. The quaffle is tucked tightly under his arm, and he's darting past the Hufflepuff chasers, who try and fail to tackle him.

Having rich parents certainly improves your quidditch results. The unlucky kids on the Comet Ninety Fives don't stand a chance when faced with James and his Cleansweep Four.

Hermione wonders briefly what he'd make of the Firebolt, and her heart clenches.

He'll never get to see his son fly it. He'll never get to see his son lift the trophy with his racing broom resting on his shoulder.

He won't get to see a lot of things.

"You cheating _bastard_!"

It is a mark of how severe the incident on the pitch is that nobody turns around at Sirius' outburst. One of the Hufflepuff beaters has swung his club at James, catching him in the stomach, causing him to drop the quaffle and slump forwards on his broom.

"Oh no," Lily says. "Oh no, oh no..."

"Is he dead?" Peter squeaks, watching through the gaps in his fingers.

Acid rises in Hermione's throat, and the little voice that she tries to block out rears its ugly, taunting head and says _No Peter, but give it a few years and you'll see to it that he is._

"No, don't be silly Peter," Lily replies, her eyebrows creased in concern.

"He'll be fine," Hermione says brightly. "I've seen worse."

Sirius looks at her briefly, but no matter how outraged he is at the beater, he doesn't quite manage to disguise his concern for James' wellbeing.

A penalty is awarded, and the quaffle soars straight through the keeper's arms, and into the middle hoop.

"Serves you right you dirty scumbags!" Sirius yells, but his words are lost among the cheers of the Gryffindors. "Give 'em hell, James!"

Somehow, as though his ears are tuned to pick up the words of his best friend, James looks over to Sirius and winks.

Lily groans.

"He's going to get himself disqualified, isn't he?" she sighs. "Oh James, don't be an _idiot_."

"He won't," Remus says quietly, his eyes fixed on the action. "The cup means too much to him for him to be really stupid."

James sends the quaffle flying past the keeper a dozen more times before he gives the nod to Pitlock, and thirty seconds later, the snitch is in the seeker's hand, held aloft in jubilation. The commentator announces the final score with no attempt to hide his ill will towards the Gryffindor team.

"Final score three hundred and sixty to thirty. Gryffindor win."

The loudspeaker clicks off more aggressively than usual, but none of the Gryffindors notice. They are far too busy cheering and screaming to be worried about anything like that. Lily yanks Hermione by the arm, and she grabs Sirius' hand. They make their way through the crowd, all linked together, then hurry down the steps of the stands, down to the pitch, where they rush towards James, who kisses Lily so enthusiastically, that Hermione half expects Professor McGonagall to put them both in detention. When she looks up at the commentator's box however, McGonagall is waving her hat around in victory, her glasses askew while the fifth year commentator watches with his arms crossed and his lips set in a sulky pout.

James pulls Hermione into a rough hug, before moving onto Remus, then Peter and at last Sirius. They squeeze each other as though they are determined to break some bones, but what the hug is really hiding are whispered plans, which Hermione spots at the last minute.

"Back to the common room!" Sirius calls. "Remus, we have work to do."

"Can I come?" Peter squeaks.

"No," Sirius says, as though this is a bizarre request. "We need to be fast and...well, you're not."

Sirius takes Hermione's hand and they speed up, Remus walking briskly alongside them.

"Get the common room ready, we're going to have a party. Keep everyone distracted while we're gone, all right?"

"But won't the villagers _know_ when they see you?" Hermione asks.

"Madam Rosmerta likes us. _And_ she was a Gryffindor, so if we tell her _why_ we're celebrating...maybe she'll slip us a few Firewhiskeys too."

"Doubt it," Remus says, with a slight tinge of disappointment to his voice. "D'you think we need the cloak?"

"Best to get it just in case."

When she watches the pair of them disappear under the cloak ten minutes later, she is reminded very forcibly of where she ought to be, and who she ought to be with.

* * *

><p>It is, perhaps, one of the best nights of her life. There is nothing particularly extraordinary about the party, it's a lot of Gryffindors making a lot of noise, and she's used to that by now. They're all together though, in their little corner, sitting on the floor because Lily won't let James throw the third years out of the nicest chairs by the fire.<p>

Hermione's leaning against Sirius, his arm around her shoulders, occasionally moving so he can take a swig of his Butterbeer. He's warm, and he's comfortable, and she feels happy.

Remus is trying very hard to ignore Anastasia, a sixth year who is rather adamant that he dances with her, despite the fact that there is no music to dance to.

"I'll dance with you," Peter says optimistically.

"No thanks," Anastasia replies, and walks away, apparently feeling that if that's the only offer she's going to get, she'd rather not have one at all.

"Thanks Wormtail," Remus says, before downing the last of his Butterbeer.

Peter doesn't look like he understands what he's being thanked for, and frowns while Remus pats him roughly on the shoulder.

"We'll be on the train home this time next week," Lily says, her head resting against James' shoulder. "We might even _be_ home."

"I won't," Sirius says gruffly.

"You're coming back with me, aren't you?" James asks, his eyebrows contorting.

"Yeah, exactly," Sirius says.

"So you're coming home then," James says firmly, staring at Sirius, as though daring him to contradict his statement.

"Where are you going?" Lily asks quietly, her eyes fixed on Hermione.

"Have you not got somewhere then?" James asks. "Aren't your mum and dad coming to get you?"

Sirius kicks him and he winces, his hands shooting to cover his shin.

Lily raises her eyebrow. She's still waiting for an answer.

"Sirius and I were going to look at getting a place together," she says slowly.

"But Sirius is coming back with me," James replies, forgetting about the pain in his leg and deciding his hands would be put to much better use ruffling his hair.

"Not going to stay forever," Sirius tells him with a snort of laughter. "Uncle Al left me some gold so we're going to use that to get a place and get set up."

"But where are you staying until then?" James asks Hermione.

"I don't _know_. I'll have to talk to Dumbledore I suppose, maybe he'll let me stay in the castle until -"

"You can stay at my place," James interrupts, sitting back against the wall, as though the matter's settled. "Mum and Dad won't mind. We've got tons of spare bedrooms anyway, so it's not like it'll be cramped."

"Why don't _I_ get a spare bedroom?" Sirius demands.

"Because I want to keep you close by," James replies with a wink.

"They'll be announcing their engagement any day now," Lily says quietly.

James makes a disparaging noise. "Not bloody likely! Why would I marry him when I've got you?"

"Oh you've _got me_, have you?" Lily asks, sitting up straighter.

James ignores her comment, and ruffles his hair again. "We should get married."

Lily laughs. "Yeah, all right."

"Really?" his tone is more hopeful than Hermione has ever heard it.

"No." Lily rolls her eyes, and Hermione smiles, because she knows that one day, very soon, that no is going to be a yes.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** I know it's been a while but I'm struggling. I've reached _that bit_ that I've been dreading for ages and progress is cripplingly slow. It doesn't help that I've managed to distract myself with the Sherlock fandom either. Gah. Not sure when the next update will be, but hopefully you'll enjoy this one.

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>James' house is indecently large. His mother and father are terribly kind, and Hermione is made to feel at home within seconds of arriving. She is shown to her room by the house elf, Aster, who sports a rather well adapted patterned pillowcase and refers to Sirius as <em>Master Sirius<em>.

Apparently _everybody_ has accepted him as part of the family.

"You all right?" Sirius asks, flopping down onto her bed.

"Yeah," she says, smiling slightly. "I think we should look for somewhere soon though. I really don't want to outstay my welcome."

"You _can't_ outstay your welcome here, believe me, it's impossible."

"All the same," she says, sitting down on the bed next to him. He takes her hand and interlaces their fingers. She smiles, and shifts, so she is laying next to him. It's the first time they've lain in bed together, and she knows it won't be the last. The peace is disrupted when the door bursts open, and James walks in. He raises an eyebrow at them and Hermione sits up, feeling her cheeks heating with a blush.

James smirks, and when Hermione turns to look at Sirius, she sees him mirroring the action.

She sighs. "When's Lily coming to visit?"

"In a few days," James says, and his smirk transforms into a grin. "Actually, I need to owl her, I said I would..."

He leaves Hermione's room with a notable spring in his step, and Hermione shakes her head.

"I _would _start taking bets on how long it is before they're married," Sirius tells her. "But you've got an unfair advantage."

She laughs softly and allows him to pull her back down onto the bed and into a cuddle.

Despite everything, despite all that she knows, she's not sure she'd have managed to be this happy in her own time. She finds his hand and brings it to her lips, pressing a kiss against it. She knows she lost a lot when she ended up here, lost a lot of people she cares a great deal for.

But she's also gained a lot. A hell of a lot.

* * *

><p>"There's a place in Upper Flagley," Hermione says, flicking through the property pages of the <em>Sunday Prophet<em>.

James is lounged in an armchair, playing with a snitch, while Sirius is stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, quill in hand, frowning over the crossword.

"Healer whose research was helped by a backfiring Geminio Spell, resulting in him having two heads." He sucks on the end of his quill, his eyebrows contorted into a frown.

"Are you even listening to me?" Hermione says.

"I know this one," Sirius says. "I'm sure I do."

Hermione looks at Lily, who is sitting up at the table with her, a few of the property pages spread out before her.

"You can use magic outside of school remember," Lily murmurs.

"I'm pretty sure his surname began with a T..." Sirius says.

"It's _Janus Thickey_," Hermione says impatiently. "Now put that down and come over here!"

James tries and fails to withhold a snort of laughter as Sirius gets to his feet and wanders over to the table, looking at the newspaper pages over Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't like it," he says. "Upper Flagley's full of people like my parents."

"Well what about this one then?" Lily says, pushing a sheet towards them. "It's in Acton Barleigh, just outside London, it's only a very small wizarding town, but it looks quite nice."

Sirius wrinkles his nose has he looks at the four tiny photographs squished into a three inch square box and shrugs. "Looks all right," he says. "What do you think?"

"Let me see," James says, thrusting the snitch back into his pocket and coming over to inspect the advert. He pushes his glasses up his nose and frowns. "Bit small, isn't it?"

"Yes well there'll only be two of us," Hermione says. "And no house elves."

"It doesn't have a dining room though," James says. "Look, the table's in the kitchen! Who wants to eat in the kitchen?"

"You've led a very sheltered life, haven't you?" Lily says, using her wand to conjure a red circle around the details of the flat. "I think you should go and view it," she says, shuffling the pages. "And I don't think it would hurt to view the one in Upper Flagley, Sirius. It's got a dining room, so I'm sure James will approve."

"Why would you eat in the kitchen though?" James asks, and Hermione just smiles, while Lily shakes her head and sighs.

* * *

><p>They're arguing. They've never really argued before. Not properly. They've bickered, naturally. All those years of being friends with Ron has taught Hermione that she's very good at bickering. This, however, is a proper argument.<p>

"It's not _right_," she says firmly. "I won't let you do it."

"You don't have much of a choice," Sirius retorts. "It's not up to you."

"Yes it _is_!"

He shakes his head and walks away from her, but turns around sharply. "What's the problem? I mean _really_, I'm just trying to look after you and you're kicking up all this fuss for what? It's _stupid_."

"It's _your money_ so it's _your flat_. I've contributed _nothing_. You can't just put my name on the deeds when I've not paid a single penny towards this place!"

"I _can_."

"You're being an idiot!" she yells. "That money was left to you, not to me!"

"Yeah, and I can choose how I use it! Just _listen,_ all right?"

She falls silent and folds her arms. She doesn't like living on handouts. His money is his money, and if she was working already, if she was contributing, it wouldn't be so much of an issue, but all she's got is a small amount of gold from the school funds to keep her going until she gets a job and starts earning money.

"It's dangerous out there," he says. "People are going missing, they're dying, and _nobody_ is immune to that. _Nobody_ can outrun him forever."

A small voice in her head says _Harry can_.

It sounds even more insignificant in her head when she realises she doesn't know the outcome of that last day. She doesn't know if Harry's luck stretched to one more day, or whether at last, it had run out completely.

"If something happens to me, then I don't want you to end up homeless, all right? Apart from the fact that I want this to be _our place_, as opposed to _my place_, I just want to make sure you're safe. Don't try and make me feel bad for that, don't argue with me over it, because you are _never_ going to win."

"I just don't think it's f-"

"I know," he says, moving closer and wrapping his arms around her. "But I want this to be ours, and if we're together until the end, then it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Yes, but it's not as _simple_ as all that..."

"Life never is. But it'll be okay, I promise."

She holds onto him tightly.

"First day in _our place_," he says, inhaling deeply, as though trying to breathe the experience in. "First day of the rest of _our lives_. That's a big thing, we should be celebrating, not arguing."

"I know," she mumbles.

"So let's crack open the Firewhiskey and invite the others over," he says brightly, releasing her. "First party!"

She laughs, and by the time she falls asleep that night, the argument is forgotten, and several firsts have been thoroughly enjoyed.

* * *

><p>"Apparently," she says, slamming her bag down on the kitchen table in a huff, "I'm not allowed to make too much of a name for myself, because of where I'm from."<p>

"Sounds fair enough," Sirius says, looking up from his crossword. "Knowing you, if you'd done anything notable under your own name, you'd have found out about it in the library by the time you were thirteen."

"_Yes_," she says, "But it also means that for the next however many years it is until I disappear in my _own time_, I'm going to be stuck doing _paperwork_."

Sirius' face creases into an expression of understanding and sympathy. "Ah."

"_Exactly_. So I asked if I'm going to be stuck on a teenager's wage for the rest of my life, because I'm going to be doing teenagers' jobs, and they said _maybe we can work something out_."

"What did you say to that?" Sirius asks, putting his quill down and getting to his feet.

"I said they'd _better_ work something out, because with seven Outstandings at NEWT level, I should be in a much better position than I am now."

"Couldn't you work in the Department of Mysteries?" he asks. "Nobody's allowed to know what the Unspeakables get up to, so that'd suit you down to the ground."

"_No_."

His eyebrows raise at her tone, and he looks at her piercingly until at last, she is forced to elaborate.

"Bad memories. It's a bad place."

He sighs, and after a moment says, "It's all right. We don't need any extra money really. I've got enough gold to last a lifetime."

The acid rises in her throat. She remembers the sight of him bleeding on the floor while Molly duelled Bellatrix. He might not need it to last as long as he thinks.

"I don't like being told I can't achieve something," she croaks. Her voice is giving her away, and she supposes her eyes are too. She can feel her lower lids prickling with hot tears. "I don't like knowing that I'm going to spend the next decade and a half _not thinking_. I'm bored out of my mind and it's only been two months! It's not _my fault_ I ended up here. If they _knew_, if they had the slightest clue about what I've been through, and all that time they were about as helpful as an arrow in the neck, I just _can't_ _handle it_."

"You're going to have to," Sirius says, his lips set into a grim line. "Because shit happens, and a lot of shit happens to you."

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, and eventually she chooses the former.

"You should meet my friends. This is mild inconvenience compared to _that_."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **This chapter was very slow going. I imagine the next one will be the same. Life isn't helping, apparently you have to work to get a degree and you have to spend hours at your place of employment in order to earn money. Blegh. Very little writing time, and the writing time I do have is usually spent procrastinating because this part of the story is being a little wretch. Anyway, a cheerful chapter, hope you like it!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>She tugs at her bridesmaid's dress, frowning at her reflection. Lily is fixing her hair in place with her wand. Her white silk dress is flowing over the sides of her chair, cascading to the floor as though it's made of liquid. Her hands are shaking a little, and Hermione can't blame her. She's marrying <em>James Potter<em>. It's enough to make anybody nervous.

"You okay?" she asks.

Lily nods, still fiddling with her hair.

"Here, let me," Hermione says, moving in and holding Lily's hair in place, then casts a Temporary Sticking Charm to keep it looking perfect for the whole bizarre day.

She's still not used to being here, not really. Still not used to seeing Harry's eyes looking out at her from Lily's face. She's not sure she'll ever get used to it really. Her time with Harry and Ron defined her so much, and those seven years, although dangerous, tragic and sometimes downright horrific, were the best of her life.

It's quite a fine line that she treads. Here, she is happy with Sirius, and happy with her friends, and she feels safe and content in a way that she never managed in her own time. _However_, if she were to think of her _best friends_, they would be her _first friends_, without a doubt. There is something quite pure about the relationship the three of them had, and even though she's as happy today as she might ever be in her life, she still yearns for those days. Those days of Devil's Snare and obsessive library visits, of sticking their noses in and somehow, always managing to come up trumps, of ending up in the hospital wing and dinner for two dozen in the garden of the Burrow.

"Am I doing the right thing?"

Lily breaks into Hermione's thoughts, and it takes a second or two for her words to process.

Really, Hermione would advise against it. Marriage will lead to pregnancy, pregnancy will lead to Harry and Harry will lead to death. Harsh, yes. But true.

On the other hand, Lily loves James, and James loves Lily, and they will both love Harry so much that they will lay down their lives for him.

Dumbledore values love over everything else, and so Hermione only feels a mild pang of guilt and betrayal when she says, "Yes. Absolutely."

Lily beams at her and stands, finally ready after two hours of quiet preparation.

"I'll go and see if they're ready," Hermione tells her, and slips from the room. A low whistle greets her, and she turns to see Sirius, lounging in an ornate, gold framed armchair, his suit already wrinkled from his lazing about.

"Lily's ready," she says. "Get James sorted."

Sirius salutes her, downs a glass of whiskey he has been hiding under the material of his jacket, and gets to his feet.

"If you're drunk before the ceremony even _begins_," Hermione hisses.

"_Relax_," Sirius replies, waving an arm at her. "I'm _fine_."

She does not relax. Instead she glares at him as he wanders down the corridor, and doesn't remove her hands from her hips until he has disappeared around the corner.

She decides it would be counter productive to mention Sirius' pre-wedding booze to Lily, and spends the next twenty minutes offering over-compensative smiles, praying that for once, Sirius has _not_ led James down the road to trouble.

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><p>"You look really good in that dress," he murmurs, holding her close and turning on the spot with her. It's not really dancing, especially not when she's supporting nearly his entire weight, but nobody else is really looking at them. All attention is on James (who has started his life as a married man miraculously sober) and Lily (who, even after eleven hours, looks just as gorgeous as when she took her first step down the aisle that morning).<p>

She can feel Sirius' lips curve into a smile against her neck, causing her skin to tingle.

"We should do this."

"Do what?" she asks, even though the knot in her stomach tells her she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Get married."

She smiles softly, trying not to think too heavily on his words.

"Not sure it's a good idea," she tells him quietly.

"Why not?" he asks, standing up straight so he can look her in the eye. The whiny edge to his voice betrays his hurt, and she looks away. She doesn't like to hurt him. She doesn't want to make him feel like she doesn't want him, but they can't possibly get married. Apart from the fact that she's quite sure she'll be discovered by her younger self if she _does_ marry him, she knows full well that in the future, Sirius is very much an _un_married man.

"_Because,_ it's hardly going to keep my name quiet if I -" she's about to say 'marry _you_', but then realises that that statement will raise a whole host of questions that she can't possibly answer now.

"If you?" he raises one dark eyebrow, his slightly glazed eyes suddenly serious.

"If I get married," she finishes lamely.

"Fine," he says, settling his chin back against her shoulder. Apparently he's done as much standing as he can take, because Hermione has to half drag him to a chair to stop him from dragging the both of them to the floor.

"Maybe one day," she says, taking a glass of red wine from a passing silver platter. She feels like she deserves it, and from across the hall, Lily smirks at her. Hermione raises her glass towards her, then glances down at Sirius, who is slumped forward, fast asleep, drooling on the table cloth.

Her next glass of wine soon follows, while Sirius snores gently, blissfully unaware of the celebrations that surround him.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **New update! Huzzah! Sorry it's all been a bit slow - coursework for my third year is hard. Fun, but hard. My scripts coursework is actually so hard that I've rewritten Traces for my fiction coursework, and I'll be posting the rewrite on my blog a bit later. I'll link to it on twitter in case any of you are interested. Same premise, but with original characters in a realist setting. So yeah, blatant plug over, and now for the chapter. And yay! Because we passed 100 reviews last time. Thanks to those who've got us there. You know who you are. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>They've all been too polite to say anything so far.<p>

Perhaps they think Lily's expanding waistline was due to overindulgence at Christmas, and perhaps James and Sirius were too drunk at New Year to notice that Lily didn't touch a drop of Firewhiskey.

Remus, who had still been feeling the effects of a particularly bad cycle, had decided to avoid alcohol altogether also. He alone had noticed.

"Is she pregnant?" he had asked quietly, in the early hours of New Year's Day.

Hermione hadn't responded, just smiled in a way that more or less confirmed Remus' assumption.

Now, however, it's getting to the point where they can't skirt around it for much longer. Hermione thinks that James _must_ know by now. He's an idiot if he's still oblivious. Lily now has what is categorically defined as a bump.

"Okay, so you've probably already guessed...and some of you have known about it for _ages..._" the last half of the sentence is directed at Hermione, and Remus and James snort.

Sirius, however, looks confused. "Guessed what?" he asks, then turns to Hermione. "What's happening?"

She shushes him and he falls silent, his attention on Lily once more. Her hand, complete with gleaming gold wedding ring, is resting on her belly, her lips curved into a soft smile.

"James and I," she continues slowly, "Are going to have a baby."

"Congratulations," Remus says, leaning over to pat James on the back and kiss Lily on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll be fantastic parents."

At these words, Hermione feels like a stone has been dropped into the pit of her stomach, but she has to keep smiling, even though she's fully aware that they're only going to get a little over a year of parenting. But they will be fantastic parents, no question. They'll make the ultimate sacrifice to protect their son, and there is nothing greater a parent can do than that.

Sirius, who has been silent, presumably due to shock, suddenly bursts out laughing.

They all turn to stare at him.

"You said!" he says gleefully, pulling Hermione into a fierce hug. "You said _ages_ ago, when we were still at school!" He launches himself at James and hugs him too, James' glasses falling askew upon their collision.

"So what's his name?" Lily asks, looking down at her bump and then up at Hermione.

"What makes you so sure it's a boy?" Hermione asks.

Lily doesn't look phased. "I just know," she says quietly.

* * *

><p>All the baby talk makes her think. <em>Really <em>makes her think.

She had always imagined that she'd have children, eventually, once she'd found the right man, had settled down and was comfortable in her career. At one point, she'd even thought that she might end up having children with Ron. It was almost like it had been planned from the moment they'd met on the Hogwarts Express - argue for seven years, then get together, then get married, then have children.

But then she'd ended up here, and she knew she was never going to see the lanky redhead ever again.

She also knows that she won't have children with Sirius, because she's far too practical to have children with a man who's going to spend twelve years in Azkaban. She's also far too practical to have children when she knows she's going to be dead by the time they become teenagers.

It wouldn't be fair.

It's quite something, to realise that you're never going to have children, especially at such a young age, a time when everything in the world should be possible, and children, well, children should be something in the future that you try not to think about until the time comes to have them.

But she's been thinking about them. And she's been thinking about the fact that the Granger family tree is going to stop dead with her. She can't help but feel like she's letting her family down.

She wants to talk to Sirius about it, but she can't begin to explain to him all the complexities of the life ahead of them. She tries to talk about it to Lily, but she can't really put her thoughts into words. At least, not words that don't give away great big spoilers about the future. So she settles on being vague, and being vague means that Lily is offering advice without really knowing the problem.

It's a waste of both of their times, really, but it helps to talk.

"There's nothing stopping you from having children now, you know," Lily tells her, resting her teacup on the curve of her stomach. "And I know Sirius doesn't _seem_ ready, but I didn't think James would be either, and he's been fantastic. I'm sure Sirius won't disappoint you."

"It's not about _that_..." Hermione says quietly. "It's not even that I want them _now_, it's just that I _know_ I'm never going to have them, just because of the way the future is."

"I don't think you should be a prisoner to your circumstances. You've already sacrificed a career, they're not going to _stop you_ from having children."

Hermione sighs and puts her head in her hands. "You don't understand," she murmurs.

"So help me to," Lily says plainly, then takes a sip of her tea.

Hermione takes a deep breath. It can't hurt to tell her, surely? After all, it's not like Lily will be around to change things. Harsh, but true.

"I know when I die," she says. "I know the date, I know the time, and I know how and why I die."

Lily's face falls, and Hermione can see everything slot into place behind her emerald green eyes.

"Are you scared?"

"No."

It's the truth. She's not scared. Not really. She knows she's safe until that day, and she knows she's going to take Sirius' place. She's all right with that. Not just because she's saving the man she loves, but because she's also giving Harry something that vaguely resembles a family. He deserves that much, and he needs it, although he'd never admit it. He's always been so determined to go it alone, but by giving him Sirius back, she knows he won't have to. She knows he'll always have someone to turn to.

And that's why going to the Department of Mysteries is going to be the easiest thing she'll ever do.

It's why Lily won't think twice about casting herself between Harry and Voldemort.

One by one, they're going to prove Dumbledore right.

Love is the most powerful force in the world.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **We have a chapter 21! Wednesdays are my day off, so I've been getting into the habit of updating then. Something has to go majorly wrong for me to not have at least a weekly update, but once we hit chapter 25, I've got about 4 chapters completely finished, so it'll speed up again. Thanks to those of you who reviewed, means the world. AND. OMG. Guess who has tickets for the studio tour in opening week? That's right kids. My friend. Who also has one for me, providing I make him some cauldron cakes. BOOM.

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"You know I am more than happy to be your secret keeper," Dumbledore says, peering at Lily over his half moon spectacles. He glances down at the ever growing bump that she's rubbing absent mindedly, and Hermione can't quite get her head around the fact that it's <em>Harry<em> in there.

"Sirius said he'd do it," James says carefully, apparently not wanting to sound like he doesn't trust Dumbledore. "I really don't think there's any need to -"

"I had an idea," Lily says, cutting James off instantly. Dumbledore's eyebrows raise for a second and he gestures politely towards her, inviting her to continue. She looks around at each of them, her mouth slightly ajar as though part of her doesn't want the words to come out.

"What about Hermione?"

"Absolutely not," Sirius says. "No way Lils, I'm not letting her put herself at risk. If Voldemort kills me trying to get the information out of me then so be it, but I'm not having him go anywhere near her. She's suffered too much by him already."

"It was just an idea," Lily says quietly. Her emerald eyes bore into Hermione's, silently communicating an apology.

"If Voldemort were to get his hands on Hermione, he could end up finding out a lot more than your whereabouts, Lily," Dumbledore tells her.

"He won't," Hermione says, a stubborn edge to her voice. Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse can be no worse than Bella's, and she lived through that. It was the Stunning Spell that got her in the end. Or will get her. She's not sure which. All she knows is she's safe until that night. More or less.

"Do you know who our Secret Keeper was?" James asks, leaning forward. "Because you could settle this pretty quickly and save us the arguing."

She can feel her throat constricting. Even if she thought she _could_ speak, she wouldn't utter a word. She will not be the one to say the traitor's name, because that will mean she will be just as responsible for James and Lily's deaths as the rat will be.

"Leave her, James," Lily says, putting her hand on top of his and turning back to Dumbledore. "We both trust Sirius with our lives. And with Harry's."

"The fact remains," Dumbledore sighs, "That somebody close to you has been passing information to Voldemort -"

"And you think that's me?" Sirius growls, halfway out of his seat before Hermione yanks him back down.

"It's a _fact_, Sirius. Someone close is a traitor. You have to suspect everyone," she tells him, keeping a grip on his robes in case he decides to storm off.

"Do _you_ suspect me?"

"Of course not," she says softly. "D'you think I'd want anything to do with you if you were one of his _pets_?"

"Well that settles it then," Sirius says, turning his gaze to Dumbledore. "You've heard it from the future. I'm not a traitor."

Lily chews on her bottom lip, and James takes her hand in his, his eyes flicking to meet Sirius' just for a second.

"If you'd feel better about using Dumble-"

"I trust Sirius," Lily says sharply. "It's never been a question of me not trusting Sirius." She pauses, and looks down at her lap. James squeezes her hand, and she takes a deep breath. "Will Harry be safe?" She looks up at Hermione, her eyes filled with tears, and when she continues, her voice is on the verge of cracking. "Because whatever happens to us, I _need_ him to be safe."

"Lily -" Dumbledore starts, but Lily ignores him.

"I've never asked anything of you," she says. "Never. But this...I need this."

"Hermione -"

"You are going to be _so__proud_ of him," Hermione says, like Lily, completely ignoring Dumbledore's warnings. "He's one of the bravest people I've ever met. I miss him _all__the__time_. He's my _best__friend_. And he's going to get bored of hearing how much he looks like you, James, but how he has your eyes, Lily, but he's going to be fine."

She knows she's said far too much, but they're only going to get a single year with their son. She wants, or perhaps needs, to give them as much of him as she can. Maybe she's trying to ease her guilt. She can't keep them from dying, but she can keep them from worrying about him too much. For all she knows Voldemort wins, but if Harry can survive the Killing Curse a second time, then Voldemort's probably fighting a losing battle.

"Sirius," Lily says, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "You're going to be his godfather after all. You might as well be secret keeper too."

James lets out a quiet breath. It's obvious he's been worrying, not just about the fact that Voldemort's after him, his wife and his unborn son, but also about having to choose secret keeper.

_James__would__have__regarded__it__as__the__height__of__dishonour__to__mistrust__his__friends_.

Remus' future words echo in her ears.

She stands.

"I need some air," she blurts out, and darts for the door, wrenching it open. When she reaches the corridor she rests her back against the wall and slides to the floor, her head in her hands.

This is all too difficult.

It's the beginning of the end in so many ways. James and Lily have a little over a year to live, and Sirius only has a fraction longer before he's carted off to Azkaban. The first war too is coming to a close, but Hermione knows she will not wake to happy news on November the first, despite how the rest of the wizarding world might see it.

Sirius will probably guess long in advance, but she can't let him find out anything for certain.

She hears the stone gargoyle slide aside, but doesn't look up. The next moment there's a familiar presence, sitting next to her on the flag stone floor, and he puts his arms around her, holding her close.

He doesn't ask her anything, which given the circumstances is all the more impressive. She wonders if perhaps he already knows.

But he can't. He'd never speak to her again. He'd do whatever it took to get the information out of her, if it saved Lily and James, wouldn't he?

All he does is hold her, and he'll never realise how grateful she is.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **Hey guys! Thanks to those who reviewed last time, hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>"Has the Auror office had any successes this week, Frank?" Dumbledore asks, twirling his thumbs in a casual way, as though he is merely enquiring about the weather.<p>

Frank shakes his head and sighs.

"We were this close to getting Black," Alice says, holding her index finger and thumb half an inch apart.

Sirius stiffens next to Hermione, and she puts her hand on his forearm, rubbing her thumb gently across his sleeve. He keeps his eyes on the table, and it's as though he feels that he is responsible for his brother's actions, despite the fact that he hasn't even spoken to him for years.

Despite the fact that Regulus turns out to be a hero in the end.

"I'm sorry Sirius," Alice says, her round eyes trying to catch his and convey her sympathy. "But he _is_ one of them."

"Yeah," Sirius grunts. "I know."

"We've got reason to believe that Joseph Wimwood is under the Imperius Curse," Frank adds, moving the conversation on quickly with a furtive glance at Hermione.

"Yeah, Wimwood's no death eater," James tells them. "He was beater on the Hufflepuff team during my third year. Pretty decent bloke. _And_ a half-blood I think, so unless he's willing to kill his own mother..."

"Voldemort can be very...convincing," Dumbledore sighs. A shiver goes round the table at the mention of the name. Even Sirius gives a minute flinch. James' lips press together more thinly, Peter makes a little squeaky noise, his hand shooting out and knocking his mug of tea to the ground with a crash. He dives below to get it, but Remus, slightly paler than usual, (though that could be due to the lunar cycle) waves his wand and the mug repairs itself, floating gently back onto the table, its tea swirling gently around inside. Gideon is doodling on a corner of parchment, Fabian watching as his drawing comes to life. Apparently they can cope with the name as long as they have a distraction.

"Well," Marlene says, her voice a little constricted. "It's probably best to get the word out to the other Aurors, try and detain him, rather than kill."

"One would hope that is the general guideline for _all_ suspects."

"And what happens if it's a matter of kill or be killed?" Remus asks.

"Is it ever a matter of that?" Dumbledore replies, peering over his half moon spectacles at Remus.

Hermione shifts in her chair. She knows what it's like to be the subject of that gaze, and when Remus meets his stare and offers a simple, steely "Yes," she is proud of him.

"I think if they're about to kill you, you can take suspect out of the equation," Sirius says quietly, "And change it to snivelling, murderous, bag of dragon sh-" he pauses, his eyes on Dumbledore, and makes a quick u-turn with his wording. "Dung."

James snorts, and Dumbledore's lips curve into a faint smile.

"A fair point, Sirius. But I hope the Killing Curse is only ever a last resort."

"I heard Sheldon Caesar's missing," Hermione says at last in a quiet voice. She doesn't like to say too much in the Order meetings. Doesn't trust herself to do the 'right thing'. She doesn't _really_ know what the 'right thing' is. Her fingers reach up to play with her locket. The closer she gets to losing Sirius, the more she plays with his final gift. She's smoothed the engravings down over the last few years, with the constant rub of her thumb over the casing. It's a little tatty from constant wear, but she's a little tatty too, and in times like this, worrying over the state of your jewellery is not at the top of the priority list.

"We think he might have defected," Fabian sighs. "He was always a bit hard to judge at school. Was a Slytherin, too."

"_That __doesn't __mean __anything_," Hermione says fiercely. "People are sorted as children, but people _change_. You could have a Hufflepuff turn out to be a death eater, and you'd all be so surprised. Why should you be though? They're just as susceptible to Voldemort's preachings as anybody else. Might I _remind_ you, that while a good deal of death eaters _are_ Slytherins, there are a good deal more Slytherins who _aren't_ death eaters."

There is silence all around the table. There are very few of them who _don't_ know where Hermione is from, and her sudden outburst comes as something of a shock, when usually she is content to sit and listen during their meetings.

"So are we to take it that Caesar _hasn't_ defected?" James asks carefully.

"_James_." Dumbledore's tone is sharp as a knife, and James bows his head in shame, only peeping up once Dumbledore has turned away. He gives Hermione a look that plainly says 'tell me later', and Sirius puts an arm around her, keeping her close.

There's nothing to tell either of them though. The first she heard of Sheldon Caesar was his disappearance, and it's impossible to judge which kind of statistic he is in the tragic story of the war - death eater or victim.

Dumbledore watches her closely for the rest of the evening, and in the end, she makes her excuses and leaves early.

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><p>Lily makes tea, and Hermione peers into the little wooden crib that has a sleeping dark haired baby in it. He is Harry. He's going to be famous soon. For all the wrong reasons. He'll be famous for being an orphan.<p>

She finds it difficult to make the jump in her head between the sleeping child before her, and the eleven year old boy she will meet on the Hogwarts Express in just over a decade. She wonders how he manages to survive his years with the Dursleys and come out of it as a _good__person_. Perhaps this year with his parents will shape him more than his years with his aunt and uncle, or perhaps some people are just too resilient to be broken. Harry has proved himself to be that for sure. Perhaps Lily and James' natures are so deeply engrained in their son that nobody could ever really change him. Certainly not for the worse.

"Here," Lily says, handing her a mug.

"Thanks." She takes a sip of her tea, and the liquid scolds the inside of her mouth. It's better to feel that than the sheer hopelessness that has been overwhelming her lately. As they edge through spring and more news of deaths and disappearances come, Hermione can't help but be focused on the day when she wakes to the news that Voldemort is gone.

She takes another sip of her tea.

"Tell me about him," Lily says, and there is a pleading edge to her voice which Hermione finds hard to ignore.

"He's going to get an O in his Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL," she tells her.

Lily beams. "Clever boy."

"He's loved. He's so very _very_ loved."

Lily bites her lip. "By who?"

"By everyone."

Lily puts her tea down on the dresser, hugs Hermione, and whispers two words.

"Thank you."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **Sorry it's late folks. I am sick. I have also been planning cottage getaways with friends in places that look like Hogwarts. (It's amazing. Properly properly amazing. It's got a tower and everything!) Anyway, thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>She's allowed to visit because she's from the future. Sirius is <em>not<em> allowed to visit because he is from the present, and apparently this makes him a liability.

It's warped logic, but after a long talk with Dumbledore, lots of begging and pleading and general manipulation from Lily, a few arguments with James as to why Sirius was not allowed to step within ten miles of Godric's Hollow, Hermione was granted access all areas.

James and Sirius have to stick with their mirrors.

"He misses him something dreadful," Lily says, fingering the stem of her wine glass. "I don't think they've ever spent so long apart." She smiles sadly, her bright green eyes tired, small lines starting to appear at the edges. She's aged so much in this last year. Since she found out that she, her husband and son had been marked for death.

There is a loud guffaw from the next room that makes Hermione jump. Lily, apparently used to this, just rolls her eyes. Hermione can faintly hear Sirius' voice, and it almost feels like he's actually in the next room; that really, none of them have been forced into hiding. They're all just having a nice evening together while Harry sleeps soundly upstairs.

"I spoke to Bathilda a few days ago," Lily says. "Told me loads of stories about Dumbledore. Odd ones. I think she's losing it a bit."

Hermione sighs.

"What?"

She's not entirely sure how to explain it. Her heart has sunk in her chest, and she suddenly feels like she's back in that musty old tent on a freezing cold hillside trying to explain to Harry that whatever Dumbledore did when he was younger doesn't matter.

"Just..." she begins, not sure where she's going. "Just don't tell Sirius."

"Why not?" Lily asks.

"You know what he's like. He'll lose his temper and say things he doesn't mean. Things that will do damage."

She's done it herself, and she can hardly be described as volatile. Sirius on the other hand...he would go much too far. Irreparably far. All in the name of protecting Harry of course, which, as honourable as that is, does not require unnecessary tensions.

"I haven't said anything to James," Lily says slowly, before taking a sip of her wine. "I'm not sure how he'd take it. Dumbledore's like...well. He's like a _father_ to him. Even more so since his dad..." she trails off. "Still," she says, after a deep breath. "_I'm_ curious, and _I_ won't say anything. Is it true? Did his father really kill those three muggles?"

Hermione gives her the sparsest of details - the attack on Ariana, the damage it caused, and the effect on Albus and Aberforth. After a few minutes, she realises she's _defending_ him. She's defending his stupid choices, despite the fact that he's made several stupid ones when it comes to the future. A part of her wonders if the fact that he's fallen from hero status in her eyes means that she needs to keep him up there for everybody else. Like pretending that Father Christmas is real if there are young children around.

She doesn't want to spoil the _magic_.

Upstairs, Harry starts to wail. Lily is about to get to her feet, but James pops his head into the kitchen and says, "Don't worry, I'll sort it."

As James climbs the stairs, Hermione and Lily distinctly hear Sirius' voice, coming from the lounge.

"Yeah, that's right, just toss me aside and run to a crying child. I see how it is."

* * *

><p>She watches as he fidgets. Sometimes it's just tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, others he's biting his thumb nail unconsciously.<p>

"Plant poisonous to livestock. Used in Beffuddlement Draughts."

He stays still, chewing his thumb nail, staring at the floor.

"I'm worried about Remus," he says at last.

Hermione puts down the newspaper and gets up, crossing over to his chair and perching on the arm. She pulls him into a hug and kisses the top of his head, but it doesn't comfort him. She can't tell him that Remus is fine, because that would change things, and things that _must_ happen, might not happen at all.

And that's a good enough reason in her book to proclaim Remus' innocence loud and clear.

"He's been treated so badly by _everyone_. Can't get a proper job, can't keep a girlfriend for longer than a couple of months, it's making a complete mess of his life."

"I know," she whispers. "But he's strong. He can cope."

"But I wouldn't _blame__him_ for going over," he says frustratedly, rubbing his forehead. "Because You-Know-Who can offer him a lot more than the Ministry can."

"Yes, but he's also a _murderer_, Sirius. A murderer who's trying to hunt down two of the few people who have actually _accepted_ Remus."

"You heard Dumbledore," Sirius says impatiently, getting to his feet. "He's convincing. That's why he's got so many followers. Wouldn't _you_ be sick of being treated like an animal?"

He's pacing now, so quickly that it's making Hermione dizzy as her eyes follow him back and forth across the lounge. He pulls at his hair, his hand shaking.

"Don't get yourself worked up over it," she says. It's the best she can do. The only comfort she can offer. She might as well not say anything at all.

"What if he's passing information about Lily and James though? What if -?"

"Sirius. Stop it."

He collapses into his chair and rests his head in his hands. She hates seeing him like this, and she knows it will only get worse. She wonders how much pacing he'll be able to do in a six foot square Azkaban cell, and almost immediately, tears begin to roll down her face. She's avoided thinking about him being stuck in there. It's been hovering at the back of her mind for years, but now, it's about to happen. She can't stop it. He's going to rot in there, and he's going to escape it a wreck of a man.

She wants these last few weeks to be theirs, and theirs alone. It's selfish, it's so horribly selfish, but she's about to lose him. The thought causes her to let out a sob, and he turns to her, seemingly forgetting his worries about Remus. He pulls her onto his lap and holds her close. She relishes in the touch. She wants to soak him up, get twelve years out of him now, because she's going to be without him for over a decade.

The worst thing is he has no idea.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **This is rather later than usual, for which I am sorry. I am still ill, which is greatly unfair in my opinion, so when I haven't been working or pretending to pay attention in lectures or arguing with my head of department over tenses and the like in a croaky voice, I have been distributing germs all over my flat. Short version of all that: I've been a bit busy. On the good news front, I've got all chapters written now, except for the arse end of 28 and the whole of 29, but that's while off. Hopefully this should all be done and dusted by Christmas. Lovely. I've talked for long enough now. Enjoy!

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><p>Sirius' anxiety does not improve. On the contrary, it spirals downwards until he becomes something of a nervous wreck. There are now lines showing on that handsome face of his, and Hermione has learned that she's best off leaving him to his pacing and his stressing. She can't tell him it's going to be all right. She's not that good of a liar.<p>

The trees have shed their leaves, and make a pleasant crunching sound whenever Hermione steps on one, on those rare occasions when she ventures outside.

"I've been thinking," he says at last, sitting forwards in his armchair, hands clasped together.

"Yeah?" Hermione replies softly, unused to the surprisingly reasonable tone his voice has taken.

"Yes," he says firmly, his grey eyes meeting hers. It's been a while since his stare has made her stomach leap in that not so unpleasant way, been a while since she's felt his gaze burning into her. This isn't the same sort of intensity she remembers from Transfiguration lessons however. This is deadly serious.

"I think we should change the Secret Keeper."

The effect of his stare fizzles out immediately, and cold washes through her veins. She's been doing her best to avoid noticing the passing of time this year. Trying not to think about what the leaves on the ground mean, trying to kid herself that the bitter cold is _just_the dementors running riot and has nothing to do with the fact that it's _October._

"Oh," is all she can say. Her mind is racing and yet seems paralysed at the same time. What is she supposed to do? What is she supposed to say?

"It's obvious that James would choose me," Sirius says. "But if we change to someone less obvious, and You-Know-Who spends all his time trying to find me..."

Hermione closes her eyes, scared that they'll betray her and reveal the truth.

"I'll go away somewhere, leave a trail, try and keep him away from you. And I'm not sure you should still be going to work - they must know we're together. The Ministry's not as safe as everyone thinks it is."

She realises he must have been considering this for days, perhaps weeks. It's the most she's heard him talk in a long time, and it sounds like it's doing him good. It feels like he's unwinding, and becoming more recognisable as himself.

"Don't go," she says eventually. "Just stay here. He won't find us. And we'll be safer together."

He looks at her for a moment, then drops his gaze, nodding his head. "Okay, I'll stay."

She moves over to him and sits on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She presses a kiss to the top of his head and holds him close. She can feel his bones, horribly pronounced. He's barely been eating, no matter how often Hermione tells him that he must. Although, one glance down at her frail looking hands tells her that she's in no position to criticise his eating habits.

Apparently, this is what war does.

"I need to speak to James," he says at last, leaning forwards and taking his mirror from the coffee table.

"I'll go and make some lunch," she murmurs, sliding off of his lap and heading towards the kitchen.

This is one conversation she does not wish to overhear.

* * *

><p>It's the last time she will see their faces. She tries to commit everything about them to memory, but it's already there, in her recollections of Harry. James' sharp, angular nose, his messy jet black hair and his thin face. Lily's eyes, and that special something that radiates from her, that will radiate from Harry one day too.<p>

Perhaps that special something is the capacity to die to protect the ones you love.

"Are you sure about this, Peter?" she asks kindly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Hermione wants to slap it away. Doesn't want her to show him any sort of kindness. Doesn't want his filthy germs all over Lily's pure hands.

But, and she's being malicious now, perhaps that piercing stare Lily bestows on him will haunt him. Perhaps that hand on his shoulder will stay there, a ghost, for the rest of his days. Perhaps this last reminder of the people whose deaths he is responsible for will ruin him.

"Oh I'm sure," he tremors, in that awful squeak he has in place of a voice. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never believe you'd trust me." His watery blue eyes are bright, and Hermione's stomach lurches as she realises it's probably with excitement. He's been waiting for this for so long. To hand his best friends over to Voldemort.

Acid rises in Hermione's throat and she looks away from his face. She can't stand it. He makes her skin crawl, her insides squirm and her head spin with guilt and a thirst for pre-emptive revenge.

Lily frowns a little. "We _do_trust you, Peter," she says, then looks at James.

"Yeah, course we do," James says. He turns his gaze to Sirius, who is watching from the corner, his eyes dark, half shielded by his mop of black hair. He already has that Azkaban air about him. She hadn't expected it. She'd always thought it had all gone wrong inside those walls, but he's been declining for some time now.

"Are _you_ sure about this, mate?" James asks.

Sirius nods.

"What about...?" James glances over at Hermione, and she shuffles her feet slightly, as though she ought not to be there.

"We'll be fine. I promise," she says.

James smiles in relief. Lily, however, has not missed the implications of this sentence. She clasps her hands in front of her, pressing her lips together hard, retaining her composure as James transfers the charm over to Peter.

The last time she hugs Lily Potter, Hermione manages to say a few words in a guilty, strangled whisper.

"Harry will be fine too. I promise."

"I know."

Lily squeezes her hand, and Hermione knows she is forgiven.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Gaaaaaah. That is all.

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><p><strong>One By One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>The first sign of things going wrong is loud, clear, and painful.<p>

She drops a plate, because she realises that by this time tomorrow they'll be gone. It smashes on the floor, shards of porcelain spraying over her bare feet, leaving tiny cuts in their wake.

A wave of Sirius' wand fixes it and she tries to concentrate on the washing up. It's such a simple task, but she can't do much except stand there with her hands in the soapy water, staring out of the window at the grey, cloudy sky as raindrops splash against the glass.

"Have we had any owls?" he asks. She hears the flick of newspaper pages, and judging by his lack of comment on it, she assumes nobody has died in the last twenty four hours.

Or at least they haven't been found.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Hermione?" he says quietly. His chair legs scrape against the floor as he stands, and seconds later she feels his warm hands on her shoulders. He doesn't say anything, and she won't look at him. He is, apparently, used to this now. He pulls her gently away from the sink and twists her around so he can hug her. It feels like she's not living in her own body. The contact is distant, and it doesn't make her feel any better.

"No owls," she says quietly.

"I sent Peter one a couple of days ago," Sirius murmurs. "I think I should go and check on him."

She says nothing. What _can_ she say?

_Don't __go_.

She'd love to say that. She'd love to keep him here forever, safe from the knowledge of what will take place tonight, safe from revenge, and safe from Azkaban.

She just wants him to be happy, but once he leaves this flat, he's never going to be truly happy ever again.

"If I haven't heard from him by tonight I'm going to find him," he says. "Will you be all right here on your own? I'm sure Frank and Alice won't mind if you head over to their place for a few hours while I'm gone."

"I'll be fine," she whispers.

He gives her a final squeeze before releasing her, and waves his wand so the dishes begin to wash themselves.

* * *

><p>Once the roar of his motorbike has faded, she curls up on the sofa and stares at the fire. Slowly, the flames dissipate, until all that remains are a few glowing lumps of coal.<p>

It is another few hours before she hears the distant _crack_ of him apparating, a few hundred yards from the boundaries of the enchantments. Seconds later, the front door opens and slams, and his legs walk into her line of sight.

She can't look at him.

"You've heard," he croaks.

"I _knew_."

He doesn't say anything, and after a moment, he collapses into an arm chair, buries his face in his hands, and begins to cry. She can't stand it, but he won't want her to try and comfort him. Not when she could have stopped all this from happening.

Eventually, she can take it no more, and she gets up, perches herself on the arm of his chair and wraps her arms around him. Perhaps it hasn't sunk in that it could have been prevented, had she been braver, or maybe he's too distraught to care right now, but he holds her tightly, so tightly it hurts. The pain is almost good though, because it's something different to the hollowness inside her heart, and the guilt that has been constricting her throat for the past year.

She can see sparks flying through the sky in the distance - red and purple and blue and gold. Owls are swooping through the air, silhouetted by the sun that's slowly creeping over the horizon.

It looks warm outside for the first time in years.

"Hagrid's taken Harry," Sirius says at last. "Dumbledore wants to put him with Lily's _sister_."

"I know," she says quietly, stroking his hair. "He'll be safe there."

"Any safer than with us?" he argues, turning his blotchy, tear stained face to look at her. "I'm his godfather after all. It's my job to -"

"It's really important that he lives with them. With _her_."

"Why? Why can't he live with us? You've heard what they're like, they won't -"

"Lily's protection will last until he's seventeen if he stays with Petunia. Lily's blood sacrifice extends to her sister. Voldemort can't touch him there."

"Voldemort's _gone_." It's the first time he's said his name. Apparently grief has thrown things into perspective, and a name is now just a name.

"Yeah..." she murmurs. "But he'll be safe there. I promise."

Sirius takes a few deep breaths, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes as though he thinks he can force his tears back.

"Have you always known?"

She can't do anything but nod, and though he can't see her, he takes her silence as a yes.

"Was it easy?"

"Not for a second."

"You could have -" he stops himself, before he says anything that _really_ hurts. "You always knew Peter was the one? That's why you never spoke to him? Or even looked at him?"

"Yeah."

Sirius laughs, and the sound is slightly mad. "And you just sat there while I came up with this great plan to switch Secret Keepers. I should have known when you didn't say anything that it was a bad idea..."

"It's so important things happened this way," she tells him quietly. "I know it's not what you want to hear right now, but you _have_ to understand."

"You mean I have to forgive you?"

"I don't expect you to do that." She extricates herself from him and stands, moving towards the door. "Get some sleep. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He stands suddenly and marches towards her so quickly that she instinctively backs against the wall. Something registers in his eyes, and he stops, then closes the gap between them slowly.

"I need to know why it's so important that my two best friends died. Because I can't think of a reason good enough, I really can't."

"You know the contents of the prophecy?"

He laughs bitterly. "You're joking, right? This is to do with the prophecy? You know as well as I do that Divination's a load of dragon shit!"

"It doesn't matter what we believe," she says quietly. "It matters what Voldemort believes. He believes Harry's a threat, but you remember the words Trelawney used - _the__Dark__Lord__shall__mark__him__as__his__equal,__but__he__will__have__a__power__the__Dark__Lord__knows__not_. Between James, Lily and Voldemort, Harry has all the tools he needs to get rid of him for _good_. Lily's protection will keep him safer than even Dumbledore could."

"What _protection_?" he asks impatiently, his hands gripping her shoulders. "_What__protection?_"

"Lily died to keep Harry safe -"

"James died to keep them _both_ safe, why aren't both Lily _and_ Harry protected?"

"James never had a choice. Lily did, _that's_ what matters. He gave her the chance to step aside but she refused - he never offered James that. It's old magic, really powerful, and Voldemort didn't understand it." She says it all in a rush, as though it'll make it better, easier, if the words whizz through his ears at lightening speed. It won't though. Nothing will make it easier.

Sirius closes his eyes, his hands moving to the sides of his head to grip his hair. She doesn't know what to do except watch him. It's as though he's trying to process it all in his head, trying to make sense of something that just doesn't want to make sense. And then she realises that he's pushing it all from his mind - the fact that she knew - because that's one tragedy too much for today, and he can't deal with that. He can't deal with the fact that she's been lying to him for so long, and the fact that she can just stand aside and let her best friends die because she's not nearly brave enough as she ought to be.

"I saw him," he whispers, "Just laying there, eyes wide open...his glasses had fallen off, so I put them back on."

Her eyes prickle, tears building in the corners quickly, and before she knows it they're falling down her face like raindrops, as he falls apart in front of her.

"And Lily was covered in rubble from the house - the whole thing was _blasted__apart_. And _he_ was lying a few feet away from her, so I put him in a different room, because I didn't want him near any of them...and Harry was crying and crying and crying...I tried to make him stop but what can you do? His mum and dad were _killed_ right in front of him..."

His words get lost in his sobs, and she can make out something about Hagrid and the motorbike, but then the rest is just anguish with the occasional word thrown in.

The one that crops up most often is 'James'.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Morning chickadees! (Well, it's still morning here for another 20 minutes.) New chapter. More sadz. And a shameless plug. _Monster_ is a oneshot on my profile and it can be read in conjunction with this or it can be read completely on its own. Chances are if you read this you'll probably read it as a companion piece to this, but whatevs. Hardly matters. Thanks to those of you who were on it like a car bonnet and have already read and reviewed. You're all lovely. And those who reviewed the last chapter are equally lovely. Anyway, enough plugging and rambling, onwards with the story!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>As anyone could have predicted, regardless of whether they're from the future or not, Sirius' grief soon manifests itself as an unyielding desire for revenge. He paces about the flat angrily, itching with energy. He picks things up only to slam them down again, he pulls at his hair so fiercely Hermione knows that it's only a matter of time before he starts ripping chunks of it out, and he hasn't had a wink of sleep since that first night that the world was without Lily and James Potter. He had cried himself into restless unconsciousness then, but he hasn't cried since, or if he has, he hasn't let her see.<p>

"I can't hang around here any longer, I'm going to find him."

He says this at least six times a day.

"Wait until after the funeral, _please_."

"I think his head on a plate would be a very appropriate thing to _bring_ to their funeral. I know James would -"

"James wouldn't want you to become a murderer just for that piece of scum!" she says sharply. They are the same words that will save the rat's life in twelve and a half years' time, the same words that will ensure Voldemort rises again. Both are very good reasons not to say them at all, but the fact remains that she believes them to be true. "You wait until after the funeral or I'll -"

"Or you'll _what_?"

"Or I'll use my wand," she says quietly. "Don't push me. I'm not having you miss this because you're obsessed with Peter."

"He's the reason they're _dead_, Hermione!"

"I'd noticed," she says firmly. "But you'll pay your respects before you go hunting him down."

"What makes you think I'd miss it?" He's calming down now, has even taken a seat in his armchair, but his hands are shaking, not with fury, but from lack of sleep, lack of food, and the desperate lack of James and Lily Potter.

"The longer I stay here, the more time he has to run and hide," he sighs.

"Some things are more important than revenge."

"Like what?"

She knows there's no point in arguing. Knows that by this time next week he'll be locked up in Azkaban.

Part of her wishes she had the courage and the self indulgence to say _'like __me'._

* * *

><p>There are people lining the streets of Godric's Hollow. All of them are dressed in black. All of them are here for Lily and James. All of them get to say goodbye.<p>

Harry, on the other hand, is probably being prodded by Dudley Dursley, a hundred miles away. He doesn't get to be here while his parents are laid to rest. It will be another sixteen years before he first visits their graves, and it sends a chill down her spine, seeing the freshly dug pits, waiting for the gleaming oak coffins to be laid down in them.

There are a small number of people gathered around the white marble tombstones. Dumbledore is wearing robes of deepest black, and they don't suit him. Professor McGonagall is mopping at her eyes with a tartan handkerchief, and the remaining members of the Order stand solemnly as the coffins are brought into the cemetery.

Dumbledore looks up and fixes Sirius with a steely stare. She feels him shrink next to her and takes his hand.

"He thinks it was me," Sirius chokes. "He thinks I betrayed them..."

Hermione returns Dumbledore's stare and shakes her head so minutely that nobody else notices. Dumbledore looks away.

Apparently he is choosing not to notice as well.

The service passes slowly and painfully. Several people try to speak, but cannot finish their pieces. Only Dumbledore is able to control his grief well enough to tell them all that which they've always known.

"James and Lily were adored by all who knew them, and their bravery has never been more apparent than in these tragic circumstances. With their deaths, a new dawn for our world has risen, and we must _not_ let their deaths be in vain. We must all work together to rebuild our world, to create a society of trust and safety once more, so that when Harry, their beloved son, comes to join us at Hogwarts, he will be filled with wonder and joy, not worry and fear."

There are murmurs of agreement, and once flowers have been laid and messages left, the crowd disperses. When the people clear, a sandy haired young man is visible. He takes one look at Sirius and turns his back, following the rest of the crowd to the cemetery gates.

"Remus?"

The word isn't uttered nearly loud enough for the man in question to hear, and Hermione watches Sirius break just a little bit more.

"This is it, isn't it? This is the end."

"Might as well be," she whispers.

"I need to find him. I'm not going to be able to rest until...until he's dead."

"I know."

He almost smiles. "Of course you do."

He pulls her into a hug and rests his head against hers. She tries to memorise every inch of him, because she knows she's already as good as lost him. She knows she's got twelve years of being alone.

"I love you," he mumbles, "I just...I fucking love you."

He kisses her, and it is apparent that he knows as well as she does that it's going to be the last time for a long time. He is about to pull away but she grips the front of his shirt. She's not ready to let him go, not yet.

She doubts she ever will be.

She will never forget the way he looks at her for that last time. It is reminiscent of the look she remembers from that empty Transfiguration classroom, all those years ago. He is older, and he is more broken, but he sees her in a way that she could never see herself.

"I love you," she says.

"I know." His lips twist into a slightly bitter smirk, and he touches her face, one last time, before he turns and leaves, disapparating once he reaches the cemetery gates.

She looks down at the ground under which James and Lily now lie.

"I'm so sorry."

She leaves.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Ciao! New chapter, and quite frankly, Hermione's a bit good in it. Hope you're all enjoying your advent calendars, I know I enjoy any excuse for more chocolate. Not sure how long til the next update. Have left lots of coursework until the last minute but hopefully next Thursday will see a new installment - Tuesday if I pull my finger out. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, you know I always appreciate it. Anyway, enjoy!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

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><p>It is two days until she hears anything.<p>

The Daily Prophet is dropped on her table, narrowly missing her mug of tea. She drops two knuts into the owl's leather pouch and it flutters off, exiting via the chimney.

Sirius isn't just _on_ the front page, he _is_ the front page. The photo is horrendous. He's standing amongst the wreckage of a muggle street, flanked by aurors. The image is hazy due to smoke, but she can clearly see him laughing.

She thinks she is the only one in the world however, who can see the desperation and grief he is trying to hide.

Her fingers close around her locket and she brings it up to her lips, kissing the embossed silver shell.

And then she decides she's not having it.

She's not having any of it.

* * *

><p>"He's not even getting a trial, is he?"<p>

"The evidence is _overwhelming_, Hermione."

She hates the way he tags her name on the end, as though she hadn't realised beforehand that he was talking to her, as though he needs to impress his point on her a little more by making it even more direct.

It's patronising, but that's Dumbledore all over.

"What about _my_ evidence?"

"What evidence is that?"

She laughs, out of shock or disbelief, she doesn't know. It's probably a mixture of both, but she begins to pace around the circular office, Fawkes watching her curiously.

"You _know_ where I'm from -"

"And you have been _blinded_ by him!"

"_No!_"

"Hermione," he says slowly, firmly. She hates it. She hates _him_. But he's the only one who can fix this. "If Sirius served time in Azkaban in your memory -"

"He served time _wrongly_. How d'you think I know him? I don't have an annual pass to that well known wizarding tourist spot, Azka-fucking-ban!"

"There's no need for language like that."

She knows that, but it makes her feel better. It makes her feel like he's listening.

"They changed secret keeper at the last minute. They thought Voldemort would go after Sirius and so they chose _Peter_."

"Even if Sirius _wasn't_ the one who betrayed Lily and James, he killed _twelve__muggles_ to get to Peter. Surely you can understand that -"

"_Peter__killed__them_!"

"I know you don't want to believe him capable of such atrocities, even _I_ didn't want to believe it, despite everything -"

"The biggest bit they found of Peter was his finger! Not because that's all the _explosion_ left behind, but because that was all _Peter_ left behind! He cut it off!"

"If Sirius went to Azkaban in the _established__timeline_ -"

"He doesn't _deserve_ to go to prison! He's done nothing wrong! Why can't we do things _right_ this time?"

"You know the laws, Hermione, we've been through all this!"

"Yes!" she snarls. "I know the laws, and I know that a man shouldn't be sentenced to life in Azkaban without trial when he's done _nothing__wrong_."

"We can't change the timeline. If, as you say, Sirius is innocent, then it is a tragedy that he must suffer this way -"

"But he doesn't have to!"

"I've already given evidence against him," Dumbledore says quietly. "It's too late, Hermione. Too late."

"You mean you don't give a damn whether he rots in Azkaban or not? After the number of times he risked his life under _your__orders_. How could you even _imagine_ he was working for Voldemort?"

"There is nothing we can do about it now," he sighs, shuffling together a few pieces of parchment. He's trying to look busy so she leaves, but she's not going to.

"You don't care at all about the difference between lies and truth, do you? You keep secrets and you don't care who gets hurt because of it."

"It's for the greater good," he tells her. "If we change the established timeline we may save Sirius from an unjust prison sentence, but others may suffer."

"Still taking after Grindelwald I see," she says acidly. "Fine. If you won't help me put things right, I'm just going to have to do it alone."

"I can have a team from the Department of Mysteries put you in a cell next to his if you try to change the timeline."

"You wouldn't," she breathes.

"I would."

She's angered him with her Grindelwald comment, she knows, but to have him threaten her with that...

"If you're a risk to our world, then you must be contained. Don't be a fool, Hermione, because I know you're not. Silly thing to be imprisoned for."

"Well, it seems like everyone these days is getting locked up for doing what's right. That doesn't sound so silly to me."

She leaves before he can have the last word. She's angry and she's scared, and she's got one last hope.

* * *

><p>She knocks on the door sharply, ignoring the protests of the secretary.<p>

A roundish, shortish woman opens it, looks Hermione up and down says, "Miss Granger, isn't it? I've heard about you. Come in."

She steps aside and Hermione enters the office. Oddly, it's not quite as impressive as Dumbledore's, and perhaps this is why Fudge will later hate Dumbledore so very much. He will be the sort of man who can't stand a Headmaster having better accommodation than the Minister for Magic, that much has always been plain to her.

"Please, take a seat," the woman says, gesturing to the wooden chair in front of the desk, upon which lies a gold name plaque.

_Millicent Bagnold. Minister for Magic._

"You have to get Sirius a fair trial," Hermione says, not bothering to waste time. He's already rotting in that cell, and the longer he's in there, the more broken he'll be when he comes out.

Bagnold sighs. "My dear, there were a number of witnesses who have given evidence -"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw."

The Minister clasps her hands together and closes her eyes for a moment, as though trying to gather patience.

"You can't let Crouch hand out life sentences without holding a full trial. It's all very well locking up people, but they need to be the _right_ people."

"I _can_ let Crouch hand out life sentences without trials, it's in paragraph C of the -"

"I don't care about paragraph C. I care about justice." She knows she's being rude, but quite frankly her manners are the least of her problems right now. She's had enough of being fobbed off. Now is the time for action.

"And so do the families of those poor muggles. So does Peter Pettigrew's mother."

"Peter was James and Lily's secret keeper. Peter was the one working for Voldemort."

Bagnold flinches at the name, but continues. "I'm sure that's what Black told _you_. And I'm sure he was very convincing with his story -"

"Don't," Hermione snaps. "Don't act like you know what's happened. You know where I'm from. You know I know more than you could ever dream of knowing. Don't try and tell me I don't know the man I've spent the last five years of my life with. Don't try and tell me I don't know the man I've known in the future since I was fourteen years old. Don't you _dare_."

"Love can blind the best of us."

Her blood is pulsing angrily through her veins. She's being treated like a child when she's seen more and done more than this stupid cow who looks like she's never left an office will do in her entire life.

"Barty Crouch's son is a death eater," she says finally, grasping at straws. It may take a few weeks for her point to be proven, but proven it will be. "And no matter how much gold Lucius Malfoy gives you, it _won't_ turn him into an innocent man. No amount of money or magic could ever do that."

"You need to be careful, Miss Granger," Bagnold says, closing her gaping mouth rather quickly. "It's an imprisonable offence, breaking those laws."

"Dumbledore's already informed me," she says darkly. "Nice isn't it? Being threatened with a prison sentence for trying to do what's right. Sirius is already feeling the consequences for being a good person. For being a better person than any of you spineless bastards here ever could."

"I think we're done, Miss Granger, don't you?"

"He's going to escape," she says, not quite as done as Bagnold assumes. "He's going to have all of you running around like the pathetic idiots you are."

"Thank you very much for the warning," Bagnold says, making a note on a scrap of parchment. "We'll move him to a high security cell."

"Doesn't matter. He'll still get out."

Despite the fact that she's angry, despite the fact that she knows she's let him down, despite her guilt, there is something fierce burning inside of her chest.

It's pride. Because everything she's just told Bagnold is one hundred percent true.

Sirius is going to make a mockery of the whole Ministry, and she is going to do nothing but sit back and laugh.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Edging ever closer to the end! Five chapters left after this, will get them all up by New Year, if not by Christmas. Thanks to those who reviewed last time, I'm sending you all lovely internet vibes. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>The first couple of days, she can pretend he's off out doing something for the Order. She's ignoring the fact that the Order doesn't really exist anymore, what with most of the members being dead and Voldemort being <em>absent<em>.

The next couple of days are somewhat harder. She's woken up next to him more or less everyday since they left school. Neither of them have ever had any family here, not in any real sense, and so they relied on each other perhaps more than they should have.

There is one good thing about the way she feels, however. Twelve years is a long time. It's longer than she can really imagine. The more it hurts, however, the more worth the wait he is. She's not sure she'll spend twelve years hurting this badly - after all, one has to draw the line somewhere - but she _will_ spend twelve years alone. Properly alone. Most of her friends are dead, after all.

She tries to pass the time with a crossword.

All they do is remind her of _him_.

At work, people eye her warily. They've stopped talking to her. It almost feels like she's getting the blame for all those deaths as much as Sirius is.

It's not fair.

Although she's only twenty two, she's had enough experience to know that life _isn't_ fair. Not for her, not for Sirius, not for James or for Lily, not even for Remus or Harry.

Bad things happen to good people. It's what makes the world go round.

The whispers follow her.

"She was living with him! A murderer!"

"No, really?"

"Yeah! They were gonna get married an' all!"

They'd never made any plans to do that. Never had the time. Never had the inclination. They had just been happy _being_ together.

"D'you think she was involved with You-Know-Who? Maybe he convinced her to -"

"Naaaah, the Ministry would have locked her up! Barty Crouch isn't messing about with these death eaters. I reckon he could be Minister for Magic when Bagnold goes."

"Well you'd hear no complaints from me."

Hermione certainly _would_ have something to say about it if Crouch ever became Minister. Luckily she is blessed with the knowledge that his career is going to be ruined in the very near future.

It's going to come at a terrible price though.

* * *

><p>"How are you?" Alice asks, her hand resting on Hermione's forearm. "I can't imagine what you're going through."<p>

Neville is playing with a stuffed toy dragon on the floor, giggling joyfully every so often. She can already see the brave man he will become. Frank and Alice will be _so__proud_.

"I miss him," she says at last. "I miss everything."

Alice pulls her into a hug and rubs her shoulder. "You know you're welcome here any time. Don't let yourself get lonely."

Hermione tries to smile, but instead she bursts into tears. She's not just crying for Sirius. She's crying because she knows Frank and Alice won't be the Frank and Alice she knows by this time next week. They are _good__people_. And the worst thing in the universe is going to happen to them. She wishes she was braver. Wishes she could just show up here and teach Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Barty Crouch junior a lesson or two.

She wishes she was brave enough to kill the lot of them.

Perhaps _that_ would get her a cell in Azkaban next to Sirius as well.

It has to happen though, or Bellatrix and Rodolphus won't be put away, and Barty Crouch, he needs to go away too, if only so he can come back and play his part in Voldemort's second rise to power.

"Here," Frank says, placing a cup of tea in Hermione's hands. "Drink that."

Hermione takes a sip of it, and there is something hot in it that has nothing to do with the temperature of the tea. She frowns.

"Firewhiskey," he tells her. "It'll do you good."

Neville is watching her, his round eyes curious.

She dreads to think what those eyes will see.

* * *

><p>She only needs to look at the first word of the headline to know that it's happened.<p>

_AURORS -_

She puts the _Prophet_face down on the kitchen table and leaves the room. She wanders into the lounge and tries to put it from her mind but it won't budge. She sits down on the sofa, but gets up again almost immediately, pacing around, her hand gripping her hair.

All she can hear inside her head are the screams of Frank and Alice, as every last bit of their sanity is ripped from them.

All she can see is a white haired Alice, pressing a bubble gum wrapper into Neville's outstretched hand.

All she can remember is the way he placed it carefully in his pocket, to treasure along with the others.

The faint silver lining to this abysmally black cloud is that at last, it's truly over. For a while, but a while is good enough. Frank and Alice's fate marks the end of the tyranny, and she, Hermione, knows that she won't live to see the second war unfold fully. Again.

It's a bit of a confusing silver lining, but she's not sure how many losses she can take again. Temptation might mean that she saves Cedric Diggory, stops him from ever going into that maze. Or perhaps she'll deal with Snape, before he can deal with Dumbledore, like dealt with Lily and James. Maybe, she'll even forewarn the Ministry about the Azkaban breakout. Or maybe she'll just sit tight, like a coward, until that day in the Department of Mysteries arrives.

She wonders how angry Dumbledore will be, when she takes that hit for Sirius.

Clutching her locket in her shaking palm, she is sure of one thing.

She doesn't give a damn anymore.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **It's been a while. My body decided to celebrate handing in my last assignment of 2011 by throwing me down with a case of food poisoning. Went down a clothes size, so every cloud, etc, but still, not fun. In better news, this chapter was the last that needed writing. I have now, technically, finished this story. It's all a bit exciting. I think I'll speed up the updating process big time, seeing as this one took so long to get out, and because I want you guys to get to the end. Would be nice to have it all out before the year ends. Anyway, I'm rambling. Hope you all had a lovely Christmas. Or if you're not of that persuasion, hope you've been having a lovely December with lovely telly (Matt Smith!) and lovely sales shopping (Topshop knitwear!). Over and out.

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>Naturally it's not the same. She doesn't let it upset her, though. Nothing much <em>does <em>upset her these days. Except perhaps the little things. Things like shaggy black dogs, or pairs of bright green eyes. The ruffle of a head of hair is enough to set her off, because all she can think about, quite selfishly, she realises, is what would have happened had she been braver.

Remus is the only one she has left. The only one who she's still prepared to talk to, that is. He says nothing about James and Lily, though there is always something behind those pale eyes of his. Something accusatory. Perhaps she's simply being paranoid, but she doesn't think so. She doesn't get the idea that Remus' visits are so frequent simply due to a desire to see her, or to keep her from being lonely.

"Dumbledore's concerned," he says, after one of their longest silences to date. He's fingering his crystal whiskey tumbler nervously, the amber liquid inside swirling gently around.

She says nothing, because her suspicions have been confirmed. He's here to spy on her. He's Dumbledore's own personal sneak. And yet it's another twelve years before Dumbledore will decide it's high time Remus ought to be repaid, and give him a job. Even then, his main reason for employment will be to protect Harry.

Poor Remus, always has a use to other people, but never simply _wanted_. Of the few that _did_ want him around, two are dead, one is locked away, and the last is far too embittered to really do her bit for him.

Especially when he's only here to spy on her. She's not feeling particularly generous towards him today. Quite understandably, in her opinion.

"You can't expect yourself to know everything," he sighs. "He fooled _all_ of us. Even James."

He flinches at the look she gives him, but continues, regardless, staring down into his Firewhiskey. It's a brave move, especially with her wand so close to hand, but, she supposes, it's the Gryffindor streak in him, treading that fine line of bravery and stupidity ever so indelicately.

"There was always a need," he continues, "No matter how hard he tried to hide it. There was always a need for him to be accepted by his mother and father, _loved_, even. Perhaps Regulus convinced him in the end, I don't know. He was his brother after all, perhaps Sirius - "

"He considered James to be more of a brother than Regulus! Don't you _dare_ - " she's on her feet, though she has no memory of standing. Her chest is heaving with angry breaths. She can't _stand_ it. She can't stand him talking about Sirius as though he's some sort of traitor. Remus is _supposed_ to be his friend. No true friend ought to accept that his friend is a traitor so easily.

But, her brain reasons, what else is left to conclude when there are two other friends dead, and another believed dead? She knows she ought not to be angry with him, but it's difficult. Even more difficult is the fact that she can't tell him the _truth_. He has to wait twelve years for that, but that's not her doing. If it were left to her, Sirius would be free, Peter would be exterminated like the vermin he is, and Dumbledore would be eating humble pie for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, it's not been left to her, and perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps her time with Harry has influenced her more than she realises, even all these years later. She has a hotter head and a far shorter temper. She is also far more obsessed with vengeance and justice, but that might be the effect of living through two wars.

She's thought it before, and she knows she'll think it again - she's glad she won't live to see the second war break out. Again.

"I think you'd be better off moving out of here," Remus says eventually. His voice is quiet, broken, and he's not the man he was when they left school.

"I've been thinking the same," she replies, running a hand through her bushy hair.

"Fresh start," he adds, his voice growing stronger, perhaps out of relief that she's not shouting at him. "It'll do you good."

She hasn't really been considering a fresh start. She's more keen on the idea of hiding away until Sirius breaks out. She doesn't want to be in the city. She doesn't want to be around people, and she certainly doesn't want to be anywhere Dumbledore can find her.

She wants to be somewhere with an open fire, and a big comfy armchair where she can sit and do crosswords and think of Sirius. She wants to serve out her lonely sentence in the middle of nowhere. She wants to do it properly, make sure she's completely alone. Then, maybe if she's lucky, she might labour under the delusion that she's _chosen _to live that way. That will, perhaps, make the whole thing far more bearable.

She always did like to be in control of things.

"Sirius' animagus form is a dog," she says later, her fingers clutching onto her locket as she drowns the last of drop of Firewhiskey from her glass. Her voice is softer now, her words slightly slurred. "Dogs are loyal."

Remus looks back at her through alcohol glazed eyes, and even through the whiskey, she can see the pity, emanating from every inch of his expression.

* * *

><p>She smiles for the first time in recent memory.<p>

It's perfect.

The thatched roof is thick and heavy, with little windows peeping out on the upper floor. Half of the building is playing host to an expanse of ivy, clinging to the white stone and black woodwork. The garden is in a beautiful state of chaos, the little cobbled path just visible through the knee high grass.

She knows he'd love it.

And he _will _love it. She has to keep reminding herself of that. She has to keep giving herself a mental shake, because she keeps forgetting that she _will _see him again, and she _will_ touch him again.

She bites her lip to keep it from trembling. She takes her new house key out of her pocket, unlocks the front door and goes inside.

She can't wait to have him back.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **Morning all! Chapter thirty! Badda bing badda boom! Okay, I have absolutely nothing to say. Thank you to those who took the time to review the last chapter. You have my eternal and unerring gratitude. Hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think!

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>The night is cold. She has only left it this late because she doesn't want to see the children running around in their costumes, celebrating.<p>

It's not a day that ought to be celebrated. Not really.

A few hundred miles away, they've just discovered Mrs Norris, swinging from a torch bracket.

Her memories are so fresh sometimes, that it feels like her head is in two places at once, living two separate lives.

The marble headstone never really seems to fade. Every year it looks just as clean and just as fresh as ever. Visiting them always makes the pain resurface, and when she remembers it's been eleven years, her head spins.

It seems like yesterday she and Lily were sharing a dormitory.

But, she supposes, she hasn't really done much living in the last decade or so. She's existed, but that's about it. She's been living for next summer. She needs to see him again, no matter how broken he is, she needs him back.

She lays her flowers down on the frosty grass, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She's had that feeling in this graveyard before. A long time ago; a long time in the future.

She turns, her fingers closing around her wand. He's standing ten feet behind her, watching, waiting, as though queueing for his _turn_.

"What are you doing here?" she demands.

He fixes her with one of those bottomless black stares that used to make her quake as a child.

"Shouldn't you be up at the castle?" she continues.

"I don't have any lessons at this hour," he says silkily, drawing closer. He looks down at her wand. "Put it away, you foolish girl."

"Worried I might _pull a Granger_?" she asks, tauntingly. She slides the wand back into her pocket but keeps a hold on it, just in case. He's already proven his true colours to her, though he doesn't know it yet.

His lip curls and he looks down at the tombstone, his hands clasped in front of him, shaking slightly with the cold.

"I suppose you've come to gloat, have you?"

"_No_."

"Then what? You're not telling me you came to James Potter's grave to pay your respects when _you _were the one that put him in there."

"_Him?_" Snape pulls out a single flower from under his cloak. Its elegant white petals seem to attract all the light there is, gleaming in the dark. He lays it down on the right hand side of the grave.

The flower is a lily.

"I regret it," he says, his voice sounding even tighter than usual. "All of it. Even him."

He's gone in a swish of his cloak, and Hermione is left alone in the dark.

* * *

><p>The news of Arthur's windfall filters through the Ministry offices, some people showing disappointment, others jealousy, but on the whole people are rather happy for him.<p>

Hermione couldn't be happier. The Weasleys deserve much more luck than they are ever given, and she's sure the memories from their trip to Egypt will be of the utmost importance to them in the coming years.

They'll need happy times to look back on.

Times with Fred.

She presses her lips together as she tries to swallow down the pang of discomfort that comes with thinking about the twin she can still see in her head, laying lifeless on the floor. Her heart shrinks a little in her chest, but then she realises something that distracts her from her muted, distant grief.

Fudge is going to Azkaban in three days.

Ron's family's picture will be in the newspaper.

Sirius will _get that newspaper. _He's bound to read it from cover to cover, because having something to read is going to be a novelty after twelve years in a six by six cell. She stands abruptly and Roberta looks over, frowning at her.

"You all right?"

"Fine," Hermione says, "Brilliant. Just popping out for a bit."

"And what shall I tell the boss if he notices?"

"Tell him I've popped out for a bit," she replies in an obvious tone, wrinkling her nose.

"Suit yourself..."

It doesn't take long for her to reach the Atrium and disapparate. Diagon Alley is crowded, as it always is during the summer months. She spots Seamus and his mother, but he's not paying attention to anything other than the Firebolt in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The offices of the _Daily Prophet_ aren't nearly as glamorous as one might imagine. Journalists with varying degrees of hygiene levels sit with their feet on their desks, dictating to their quills boredly, while a great mechanical printing press is working furiously in the far corner, making such a huge amount of noise that Hermione leans backwards, as though it'll make a difference.

A blonde witch is sitting under a banner which reads 'Classifieds' and looks up when Hermione clears her throat.

"Write it down," she says, thrusting a quill and some parchment towards Hermione. "Block capitals please."

Hermione follows orders, and after the first word, she has to pause for a minute to think.

What should she say to a man she hasn't seen nor spoken to for nearly twelve years?

She should say what he needs to hear, she decides, and puts the tip of her quill to the parchment.

_PADFOOT._

_IMY. ILY. HPIS. SYS_

She passes it back to the witch who looks at it and scowls.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hermione says. "To you, at least. Could you put it in Thursday's issue?"

"Fine," the witch says airily, slapping it onto a small pile of other scraps of parchment. "Two sickles."

Hermione rummages in her purse for the coins and hands them over. "Thursday, yes? It's really _really_ important."

The witch waves an impatient hand at her, but Hermione is far too happy to be affronted.

She knows how much it will mean to him when he sees it. When he finds out that he still means something to someone, and that she still thinks of him every single day.

It might also put his mind at rest about Harry, but she's not sure she could ever tell him anything that would make that happen for good.

She arrives back in the office with a spring in her step, and Roberta watches her through narrowed eyes.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Hermione says, before returning her attention to her work.

Roberta looks more put out than ever.

Hermione's smile grows impossibly wider.

* * *

><p>She's marked the date on her calendar. Just a little dot, a speck to anyone else, but the most important thing in the world to her.<p>

He's coming back.

Excitement builds in the pit of her stomach at random moments. Sometimes she'll be sitting at her desk, filling in some forms, and she'll stop, because she can't explain the wide smile that's just formed on her face. And then she thinks of him, and it all falls into place.

"What's up with you?" Roberta glances up at her, then back down at her nails.

"Nothing," Hermione says, forcing her smile back down and returning her attention to her work.

"You got yourself a fella finally?" Roberta asks, her eyes bright with the prospect of gossip.

"Sort of," Hermione replies.

Roberta emits a noise that makes Hermione's skin crawl. It is a sound most often reserved for middle aged women finding a bargain in the sales, but Roberta chooses to use it for when she finds out a particularly interesting morsel of information.

"What's he like?" she asks, not taking Hermione's short answers as a hint that it's none of her bloody business.

Hermione stops, just for a moment, then picks three words that, in her mind, sum Sirius up.

"Worth waiting for."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Happy New Year guys. Enjoy. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>She's lying on the floor, unconscious, next to Ginny who looks to be on the verge of tears. Her foot is sitting at an odd angle to her leg, but he can't worry about that now.<p>

"What happened to her?" he demands, leaning down to feel Hermione's neck, searching for a pulse. It's faint, but it's there, and relief washes through him.

"We don't know," Ginny groans, shifting her leg out of the way as Tonks, Kingsley and Remus streak past them. "It was Dolohov I think. He did some dark magic."

"Sirius!" Remus yells. "Harry!"

"Which way, Ginny?" Sirius asks, and she points to one of the open doors in the circular room. They waste no time, and sprint through it following the sounds of battle until they see Harry and Neville, surrounded by death eaters.

"_Stupefy!_" Tonks cries, and Lucius Malfoy collapses the moment the jet of red light hits his chest.

It has been too long since he has felt the thrill of battle. Death rushes close to him more times than he'd like to think about, but each time he feels the heat of a Killing Curse, narrowly missing him, it gives him a new burst of energy, a new desire to destroy every last stinking death eater he can get his hands on.

Harry is battling Dolohov, who swipes his wand downwards, a jet of purple light heading straight for Harry, who ducks just in time. Sirius is sure it is the same curse that Dolohov used on Hermione, and with a roar of anger, he launches himself towards the man, his shoulder ramming Dolohov in the side, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" Harry bellows. Dolohov's arms and legs snap tight to his sides; he can't move a muscle.

"Nice one!" Sirius calls, thinking that Voldemort's going to have his work cut out for him when they meet for the final time. Of all the boys in all the world he could have tried to kill, he had to go for the one who can battle death eaters at the age of fifteen, rescue escaped convicts at the age of thirteen, kill a basilisk at the age of twelve, and save the Philosopher's Stone from the most evil dark wizard of all time at the meagre age of eleven.

His smugness falters as Rookwood appears from nowhere, his pockmarked face twisted into an angry expression.

Sirius dives between Harry and Rookwood, his wand swishing through the air furiously to block and parry the spells that Rookwood sends to him.

"Harry, get Neville and get -"

He is thrown off his feet, the wind knocked out of him as he collides with the stone dais. Harry rushes to his side as Mad-Eye takes over the battle with Rookwood.

"Sirius!" Harry hauls him into a sitting position, and Sirius grips his arm tightly, pulling him close so he can hear.

"Get Neville, take the prophecy and get _out_. Find the others. You _need_ to get Hermione somewhere safe. I don't know what Dolohov did to her, so we need to get her seen to as quick as we can."

"But I want to stay with you," Harry says imploringly, his green eyes boring into Sirius'. "I want to fight."

"Sometimes," Sirius says, yanking Harry downwards as a jet of red light heads towards the pair of them. "You are far too much like James. The others need you more than we do. Go to them."

There is a high pitched cackle of glee, and Sirius looks up to see Tonks tumbling down the stone steps that border the room. Bellatrix is laughing madly, her blackened teeth bared as she hops past Tonks in an almost child like way, her crooked wand raised and ready to do even more damage.

"Go!" Sirius yells, shoving Harry towards the door.

He staggers to his feet, sending a hex at Bellatrix before she can target one of the others. Kingsley is injured, and in no shape to put up a fight, Mad-Eye is still battling with Rookwood and Rodolphus Lestrange. Remus is taking on Avery and Mulciber.

Bellatrix is his.

His wand heats up quickly in his hands. It went for fourteen years without being used once, and over the last year he has only used it for simple spells. Dumbledore hasn't given him the chance to get it back into practice yet, and now it's burning his fingers with all the power surging through it.

A jet of green light misses him by inches, and his desire to be the one to end the terrible existence of Bellatrix Lestrange increases tenfold.

Neville has fought bravely tonight, not giving up despite the fact that he has no wand and can barely pronounce anything correctly. His nose is bleeding all down the front of his robes, and Sirius knows, without a doubt, that Frank and Alice's minds, wherever they may be, are bursting with pride. He is their son through and through, and it is for them that Sirius continues to fight, sparing not a single thought for the fact that Dumbledore is now here, nor that Dumbledore could end this in seconds.

But Dumbledore is too kind to wrongdoers. He will not stop them in their tracks for good. He will detain them, try to teach them.

He will _forgive_ them.

Sirius is not willing to have Bella carted off to Azkaban tonight, only to be broken out again next week.

A jet of red light soars straight past him, and he laughs, loudly, tauntingly.

"Come on, you can do better than that!"

There is a loud _crack_, and something hits him, knocking him to the ground.

Sirius looks up. Hermione is standing in front of him, grinning in relief. The second jet of red light hits her in the back, but it has no effect. It rebounds straight back at Bellatrix, who dodges, takes one look at Dumbledore, and runs.

"Get away from that veil," Hermione hisses, pulling him away towards the edge of the dais.

"How -?" Sirius stammers. "How did you block the Stunning Spell?"

"I - Stunning Spell?" She's confused for a moment, but then her eyes widen and she reaches for the locket around her neck. "You... you blocked it!" she says, and he can see the pieces sliding together in her head. "The locket - I, oh you're _brilliant_!" she kisses him on the forehead but he's still confused. "Fred and George gave you the idea I suppose, with the shield hats?'

"I don't -"

She kisses him again and pulls him into a tight hug.

"But -"

"You gave me this! You gave me this when I was younger! You told me to wear it, always!"

"I still don't -"

"Oh never _mind_," she says impatiently, pulling him to his feet. "That tripping jinx..." she says softly. "That fight on the stairs, all those years ago..."

Sirius frowns. He remembers a great deal of fights on various staircases. And then he remembers a battered and bruised Hermione, sitting up in a hospital bed insisting she wasn't hit by a jinx.

"It's lasted all this time." She's looking down at the locket in wonder now, her eyes bright, and he pulls her close, into a hug. He has the terribly cold feeling that they're playing on borrowed time here, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Dumbledore has rounded up the remaining death eaters, securing them with thick black ropes. Harry is watching, confused, while Remus' eyes are set slightly wider than usual. He has Tonks slung over his shoulder, but has paused in his attempts to take her to Dumbledore.

"Back to headquarters," Dumbledore says, his tone hard. "The pair of you. Remus, bring Nymphadora to me, I think she needs to go to St Mungo's."

"Sirius -" Harry runs up towards him, looking between him and Hermione. She turns her face away. He can't work it out, not yet, and if he sees her eyes he'll know in a heartbeat who she is.

"I'll see you very soon," Sirius says, releasing Hermione and pulling Harry into a hug. "Stay with Dumbledore. Do as he says."

Harry looks as though he'd much rather do the opposite, but he nods, and steps back.

Hermione and Sirius link hands, and disapparate back to Grimmauld Place. Together.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **Well that last chapter certainly got a reaction. I wrote it months ago, and this one too. You have no idea how excited I am that I'm finally posting them. One more chapter after this. Then we're done. Completely. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, your words and enthusiasm are, as ever, much appreciated. A little self indulgent plug if I may - for the Sherlockers. _Every Time_, about _that scene_ in a Scandal in Belgravia, where you just want to scoop Molly up and go and destroy Sherlock's sock index. I'm working on the companion piece to it as we speak so...yeah. Anyway, just a heads up. =]

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><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>Quite frankly, in his opinion at least, he looks very handsome indeed.<p>

Sirius turns in front of the mirror to admire himself from all angles, while Hermione watches him from an arm chair, one leg crossed over the other, a grin spread across her face. He spots her expression, reflected in the mirror, and scowls.

"What?" he asks.

"You haven't really changed at all in twenty years, have you?" she says quietly, her eyes bright with fondness. "Still as vain as ever."

"Hey," he says, spinning around and raising a finger defensively. "I'm the best man, I have to make sure I look sharp!"

"You've been making sure you look _sharp_ for the last twenty minutes. We're going to be late if we don't leave soon."

"Well at least _I've _made an effort," Sirius says, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with his cravat. Then, frowning slightly, asks, "D'you think I should shave this off?" He indicates his beard, his eyes fixed on Hermione's reflection as he awaits her answer.

"No," she says decisively, getting to her feet. "We'll miss the ceremony if you do that."

"It looks a bit scruffy though," he says, his frown deepening.

"Leave it," Hermione says firmly, picking up her handbag and taking him by the arm, pulling him away from the mirror. "I like it."

"Oh?" His frown slides from his face and is replaced with a smirk. He cups her face with his hand and leans in to kiss her but she ducks away, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she dances towards the door.

"We need to go. Now."

"_Fine_," Sirius says grumpily. "Fine."

* * *

><p>Though he would never admit it to anyone, he's getting a little bit choked up.<p>

Tonks is glowing with happiness, and he has never seen Remus look so _well_. For a few hours, nobody would ever dare to guess that he's a werewolf. Though his scars are still there, they look less prominent, and for once, he looks truly ecstatic to be alive.

Molly is weeping quietly in the front row, Hagrid sobbing rather loudly in the back. As Remus and Tonks exchange rings and kiss, Sirius' heart clenches. If anybody deserves happiness like this, it is Remus. It's almost as though they've escaped to a different world, where the war isn't happening, and they are able to enjoy one glowing moment of tranquillity and joy, without having to worry about all the terrible things that are taking place elsewhere.

Hermione is beaming from her spot next to Arthur, while Andromeda, on the opposite side, is watching proceedings with a faint smile on her face. Ted is red faced and cheerful, his dress robes just about managing to accommodate his round belly.

The little tufty haired wizard presiding over the ceremony finishes his speech, and the celebrations soon begin. There is music and champagne, and Sirius wastes no time in getting Hermione involved with both.

"No," she says, pushing away the champagne flute that he tries to press into her hand. "I've had two already!"

"You had six at James and Lily's wedding," Sirius reasons. "And you were still dancing right up to the end."

"Yes, well I'm not twenty anymore," she argues, taking the glass from him and placing it on a nearby table. "And don't you _dare_ get drunk. You know what you're like."

Sirius pulls a face and drains his champagne defiantly, while Hermione purses her lips, her hands on her hips.

"It's a _party_," he says defensively.

"It's a _wedding_," she argues. "I don't think Remus would appreciate it if people remember his wedding as _the one where Sirius was chucking up in the corner_, do you?"

Sirius grins, earning himself a slap on the arm.

"Sirius, I'm stealing your lady for a dance, if she'll permit me to."

George is holding out a hand, a charming smile on his face. He too, has evidently been at the champagne, judging by the slight glaze to his eyes.

"Why is it always the drunks who want me?" Hermione sighs, taking George's hand and allowing him to whisk her off to the dance floor.

"Tell me," says a familiar voice from behind Sirius. "Why haven't you married her yet?"

"Nice to see you too, Andromeda," Sirius replies, turning to face her.

"That doesn't answer my question," she says coolly, though with a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "She waited for you, when others wouldn't. Do the decent thing."

"She's not fussed," he says, taking a sip of his champagne. "And besides, I think she'd want...well. She'd want people to be there who can't be. Not yet."

"Potter?"

Sirius nods. "_I'd_ want him to be there too. And Ron and Ginny - Molly and Arthur's youngest."

Andromeda's dark eyebrows raise momentarily, but then readjust themselves back into their usual superior expression. "And that's why they aren't here today? Because they don't know about her?"

"Ron, Ginny and Hermione, the young one, I mean," he frowns at the clarification but Andromeda makes no sign of being confused, so he ploughs on, "well they've been told that it's too dangerous for them to leave Molly and Arthur's place. The death eaters know they're close to Harry. They weren't happy about it, naturally, but Molly didn't give them any room to argue."

"I like Molly," Andromeda says appraisingly. "I've never really had much to do with her before, but I like her..."

At that moment Remus arrives, throwing an arm around Sirius' shoulders, his face red from dancing and sheer happiness.

"There's a ginger kid stealing your girl," he says. "You'd never have let that slide in the old days."

Sirius snorts, and once the song has ended, he goes to reclaim Hermione from George.

* * *

><p>They stumble home in the early hours. Hermione, having relented after a while, is heavily influenced by champagne, while Sirius has had a little time to sober up.<p>

"Andromeda said I should do the decent thing and marry you," he tells her quietly as they slowly make their way up the stairs.

Hermione snorts, and he can't help but feel his pride diminish a little.

"What's so funny?"

"Me and you," she slurs. "Married."

"Oh yeah," he says chuckling loudly, before stopping abruptly. "No. I don't get the joke."

"Well," she says, pausing to tackle the tricky business of the last step on the first flight of stairs. "It's silly, isn't it?"

"Why?"

"Because at least one of us will end up dying. The world isn't fair enough to let us both make it out alive, and I don't want to be a widow before I even hit forty."

"Don't talk like that," he says quietly. "We'll be fine."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She kisses him, and the first thing he notices is that she tastes of champagne. He doesn't notice much else after that.

They don't make it to the second flight of stairs.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **Here we are my darlings. The end. Thank you to all those who have stuck with me, and thank you to those that regularly submitted reviews. You're superstars. This is the end for these two now. Completely. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

><p><strong>One by One.<strong>

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

><p>He is so very proud.<p>

He never thought he'd live to see the day, but here he is, and here _Harry_ is. Tired, cut, bruised, damaged inside and out, but _alive_.

"I know James would be in awe of you," he says at last, breaking the silence. "And your mother, she would be _so_ proud."

The faintest of smiles curves Harry's lips, and then he asks the question that Sirius has been waiting to hear for a _long_ time.

"Where's Hermione? Dumbledore said -" he breaks off, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown as he stares down at the desk. "Dumbledore said _you'd_ know."

"She's fine," Sirius says. "She's...she's in the past."

"What?" Ron half laughs, as though he thinks it's a joke. "What d'you mean?"

Sirius pulls out a collection of photographs from his jacket pocket and slides them across the desk to Harry and Ron. He has known for a long while that this conversation would come, and so has kept the _evidence_ on him, to make it easier. Pictures paint a thousand words, apparently, and the dog eared black and white photographs spread out before Harry and Ron explain the situation much better than Sirius ever could.

Harry picks up the smallest photo. Hermione and Lily are arm in arm, giggling. James had just fallen in the lake, and been shoved out again by the giant squid. Sirius of course, had had nothing to do with the event whatsoever.

"What's so funny?" Ron asks, looking up from the photo.

"I tripped James up," Sirius says, realising now that he's smirking. "Head first into the lake."

Ron doesn't appear to see the funny side. "Where is she now?"

"Here."

The three of them jump at the sound of her voice. She has been leaning against the doorway for the past minute or so, the side of her face still covered in blood, a thin cut running the length of her forearm. Purple bruises are dotted all over her skin, and her neck bears the markings of someone's attempt at strangling her.

"Hermione?" Harry breathes.

She nods, and then swoops down on both Harry and Ron, pulling them into a fierce hug. She kisses the tops of their heads, then turns to look Harry directly in the eye.

"_Well done_."

She hugs them again, her swollen lower lip trembling. He knows how much she's missed them. Knows that she thinks of them, every single night, before she goes to sleep.

"It was you," Ron says, dazedly. "You pulled Fred back from that explosion."

Even from a portrait, Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes manage to intimidate very well. Hermione takes a step backwards, towards the door, while Sirius looks between her and the portrait, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Dumbledore's voice has a resigned edge to it, though he does not appear to be angry.

"No," she says. "Problem?"

Harry and Ron watch, aghast. Sirius is willing to bet that neither of them have ever seen Hermione speak to anybody like that, let alone a teacher, and let alone a headmaster.

"None whatsoever," Dumbledore replies, and the twinkle that Sirius has not seen for a long long time has returned to his bright blue eyes.

Hermione's mouth opens, as though she's about to say something, but then her lips curve into a smile.

"The feast'll be starting in a minute," Sirius says, getting to his feet.

Harry distracted from the conversation, points at something by Hermione's side.

"Are you two _married_?" he asks, his emerald eyes wider than ever.

Hermione raises her hand to look at the ring on her finger and scowls. "It got scratched when I was duelling Mulciber."

"No," Sirius says, answering Harry's question, then, smirking, adds, "We never seemed to have the time."

"Oh very funny," Hermione says sourly, looking up from her ring. "Very funny indeed."

He snorts, then, turning back to Harry, claps him on the shoulder.

"Come on," he says. "You can't keep people waiting. They want to worship you. You're The Boy Who Lived Again."

"How many people have you saved?" Ron asks Hermione softly, looking at her as though she is an impossible sight.

"Not nearly enough," she replies. "But maybe this time around, there'll be a few more."

"Eh?" Ron's astonished expression has switched rapidly to one of confusion. Hermione smiles and pulls him into a hug.

"You've done ever so well. I'm proud of you."

"But that doesn't answer my _question_," Ron says, glancing at Sirius over Hermione's shoulder.

"No, I don't suppose it does," Hermione says with a sigh. She smiles, takes Sirius by the hand, and leads the way down to the Great Hall.

Tonight has been a long time coming. It's their third shot at the second of May, and it seems, to Sirius at least, as he watches Tonks, resting her head against Remus' shoulder while he drinks deeply from his goblet, and Fred, flicking peas at Percy, who is caught halfway between impatience and fondness, and Arthur, who is sat between Percy and Bill, with nothing but relief, dancing across his tired face, and Hermione, who is holding his hand under the table and chatting to Ginny while she eats, that it is definitely a case of third time lucky.

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>


End file.
